


Hunger of the Pine

by Nerdy_Badger_Mole



Series: Cherry Wine [2]
Category: Good Girls (TV), Good Girls (TV) RPF
Genre: Abuse, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gaslighting, Heavy Angst, I Don't Even Know, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Not Canon Compliant, Physical Abuse, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Spanking, Stalking, Tags May Change, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdy_Badger_Mole/pseuds/Nerdy_Badger_Mole
Summary: I slithered from Eden just to sit outside your doorShe should stay away from him. She really should. But pain is so addictive.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Rio (Good Girls)/ Reader, Rio (Good Girls)/Original Character(s), Rio (Good Girls)/Original Female Character(s), Rio (Good Girls)/You
Series: Cherry Wine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909876
Comments: 39
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back babeyyyy

Christopher was not a virtuous man, this much was obvious but he did possess patience in spades.

Occasionally.

He knows what she had told him. To stay away. She would have probably let him die if he hadn't agreed to stay away from her.

But he hadn't agreed technically. 

He couldn't stay away from her. Life had so few meaningful pleasures that he could not, would not deprive himself of the pleasure of seeing her.

So he watched, if only from a distance. Patiently.

He knew that she knew that he was close and watching, connected as they were. But she didn't confront him nor call the police. She just ignored him and acted like she didn't  _ feel  _ him nearby.

Getting the cops called on him would have hurt less than being brushed aside.

He couldn't watch her when she was at home, only getting glimpses through her french doors or kitchen windows. So he'd watch her at work, at the supermarket of course, at the gym. Anywhere he could nourish himself on the sight of her.

But she never acknowledged him. She had moved on.

He knows what he did was... wrong. He knew it was wrong intellectually rather than morally. But he had never planned on becoming so enraptured by her. He had hoped to keep her on the side to fuck senseless but he never thought he'd love her.

Well, love as much as a man like him could love. Love for him... was consumption. If he had her, he had to have all of her.

_ You can't love someone and control them, Christopher. _ She'd said.

So he didn't approach her. Not until he could calm the beast inside him that wanted to own her mind, soul, and voluptuous body. 

Shit, he even started seeing a therapist.

He was trying but he knew deep down that it would take a lot of fire to scrape away the darkness of his soul.  He obviously didn't tell his therapist about his stalking. She'd tell him to stop and he didn't have the strength to tear himself away from her.  God knows what his therapist would say about the cameras he discreetly placed around her apartment when she wasn't home. He'd done far worse things than breaking and entering in his time.

But seeing her sleepily make cereal in the mornings, sway her hips to music as she cooked, or just spend hours untangling and twisting and doing whatever to her natural hair...it made him so much happier than words could express.

He'd touch his screen, wishing for the warmth of her skin.

One night, in bed himself, he was watching her toss and turn as she struggled to get to sleep, her thighs rubbing together. She always got cold at night. But it wasn't that.

She turned onto her back and sighed before reaching into her bedside drawer and extracting a brightly coloured plug. Just like the one he had gotten her. His heart thundered in his chest.

She put her beddings aside and took off her panties and sleep shorts, leaving her only in a spaghetti top, her pussy bare as she spread her legs. He could hear her trembling breath and he was glad for the audio.

She rubbed at the insides of her thighs slowly, her hands inching upwards until they reached the apex of her thighs, her fingers swiping up and down her sex, circling her undoubtedly engorged clit. His sweats had tented, his erection was nearly painful.

She slipped to fingers inside herself, teasing herself. He knew because she always said her fingers were so small and she preferred it when he fingered her.  _ Your fingers are so thick _ , she'd said shyly. She was so shy, so soft. How he'd let himself hurt someone so soft… he didn't know. Blood is the price of consumption.

She was rubbing frantically at her clit, her back arching as she neared her climax. But the  _ noises _ she made! She was mewling and panting and moaning softly. He missed those noises. Those noises should belong to him.

Soon she was gasping as her body went stiff, moaning as her body trembled with the force of her climax before she collapsed against the bed. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that she had tired herself out. But he did know better and he knew that she could as many times as he wanted.

When she turned over and propped herself up on her knees, face in her pillow, he knew he was right. He imagined walking in there and seeing her presenting herself to him and taking her until she cried. He loved it when he was so deep inside her that she'd cry.

She grabbed the toy and reached behind herself, rubbing the toy up and down her sex, slicking it up with her own juices. He took his own throbbing shaft in hand and squeezed himself, feeling dangerously close. 

She finally pressed the toy into herself slowly, trying to get the bulbous tip inside before bottoming out quickly. Once the toy was in she groaned throatily, her body trembling. He knew that it was pressing into her g-spot. That's why he'd bought it the first time.

She wasted no time and she quickly thrust it in out of her pussy, the toy making an obscene squelch with each pass. He thumbed at the head of his cock in time with her thrusts before collecting his precum and using it to slick the passes of his hand over his aching cock.

They went on like that for a while, her fucking herself while he watched and stroking himself quickly as she unwittingly performed for him. Then he heard it, soft and tinny through the speakers.

"Christopher," she mumbled incoherently.

He tugged at his cock, groaning a deep, tortured groan. Even as aroused as he was, he tried to reason with himself.  _ Stay away. Not yet. _

He knew it. He knew she couldn't forget him so easily.

He stroked himself faster as she fucked herself more desperately on the toy, the squelches getting wetter and making him harder. What he'd give to feel her wet heat on his dick…

She thrust the toy quickly into herself a few times before she gasped loudly and squirted around the toy, wetness gushing around the toy, her body trembling and her mouth releasing a high gasp with each squirt. He stroked himself frantically and with a punched out groan, he came into his fist, each spurt overflowing onto his fingers and he jerked with each spurt.

He looked to find that she had finally turned onto her back and fallen asleep but she had kept the plug nestled inside her, her legs spread obscenely to show the plug spreading her lips. His cock gave a valiant twitch at the sight.

He put his laptop away and went to clean himself up. He gave himself a good, hard look in the mirror and he came to a decision. As he washed his hands, he decided that it wasn't enough for him to be on the outside looking in.

It wasn't  _ enough _ .

And now he knew, it wasn't enough for her either.

Why should they deprive themselves?

Patience must give way to action.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know I don't know how to write summaries lmao

He had spent a fair amount of time thinking of how to approach her again, how to best get her to see that he had changed and that they needed to try again. The latter being the goal and the former being flat out untrue. Nothing had changed and he was the same. After all, this was the version of himself that she loved.

And that was one thing of which he was sure. She loved him. Not the same way he loved her but hey, they couldn’t both be slightly unhinged. 

He had decided to just go to her apartment and ask to speak with her when one of his men brought him the news. Keyword being 'ask'. He had to show her a changed man.

Beth was washing cash on his turf. On  _ his  _ fucking turf. 

She thought she could just come in with her pissant little girls’ group and some two-bit ex-con and move in on his turf? It made his blood boil. 

He clenched his hands tightly until his knuckles turned white, fuming silently. The man who had brought him the info slowly backed out, sensing that Rio was very close to destroying everything in his office and if he stood too close he might just get shot.

It was a wise choice. 

Rio couldn’t say why Beth made him so angry. He didn’t like her per se but he didn’t hate her either. He had no particular feelings about her. 

_ Don’t you think that you hate Beth because you associate her with your actions that you regret? The ones that made  _ her _ leave?  _ He imagined his therapist asking.

His therapist always phrased her thoughts as questions as a way of making him fully process what she was saying. It drove him up the fucking wall because it always worked.

Maybe he did hate Beth because it was more convenient than hating himself.

_ It's your own fault that she's gone,  _ a snide voice said in his head.

_ She'll be mine again. In time,  _ he retorted.

Beth still couldn’t wash cash on his turf. Fuck whatever his therapist says.

He had not revealed himself yet, having been in protective custody after feeding Agent Turner tips to take out his competitors. The only person he hated more than Beth was Jim fucking Turner. He had the man killed eventually but it still pissed him off to think of him. 

He thought he could get back to work, get his woman back and have all be right with the world.

He somehow managed to stave off destroying his office and decided to call his ex-wife.

“Hey, mama,” he drawled into his phone.

“What do you want, Christopher?” Rhea said coldly.

“Why the attitude? I can’t just say hi?” he said teasingly but not masking the edge to his voice.

“It’s not your weekend with Marcus so clearly you want something,” Rhea sighed.

His relationship with Rhea was contentious, to say the least. He didn’t love Rhea the way he loved  _ her  _ but she did definitely fall prey to his somewhat volatile temper. Rhea had quite the mouth on her and she wasn’t easily cowed so when he inevitably hit her, she most definitely hit him back. She even wrecked his car once.

He had a lot of respect for her.

“How’s your friend, Beth?” he asked casually.

“She’s f- How do you know Beth? How do you know about that?” Rhea asked in confusion.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? We, uh, worked together at some point,” he said smoothly.

“Worked together?” Rhea said sceptically.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “So I’mma need to know when next you’re gonna see our mutual friend.”

“Why would I tell you?” Rhea said bitterly.

“Because she shot and almost killed me,” he said smoothly. 

So it was a lie. So what? The ends justify the means.

“W-what?” Rhea breathed.

“You heard me,” he said, dropping the air of levity. “Now I know you don’t want no trouble from me so just tell me what I need to know.”

Rhea sighed and told him what he needed to know. Yes, she would fight him when necessary but she knew well enough that he wasn’t above killing her. 

He wasn’t above a lot of things.

That’s why he didn’t feel too bad about enjoying the terrified look on Beth’s face when he accosted her at a bar.

**

“Expecting somebody else, Elizabeth?” he drawled.

Beth simply looked at him, lips pursed and eyes wide in fear and surprise, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m still here.”

Beth still didn’t say anything, choosing to watch him carefully instead as though he’d kill her if she so much as blinked. Fortunately for her, he didn’t feel particularly homicidal that evening and it’s not like he could kill her in a crowded bar.

“No need to look so nervous,” he chuckled humourlessly. “I just wanna talk business.”

“Business?” Beth squeaked, finally speaking.

“Mm,” he hummed, signalling to the bartender for another bourbon. “As in, what business you think you have washing money on my turf.”

“I- I thought you were gone,” Beth said quietly.

“It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me, sweetheart,” he sighed.

“See, what you need to understand,” he started. “Is that there’s a licensing fee if you wanna move cash through my guys or on my turf.”

“Maybe we can work something out?” Beth said, attempting to keep her cool.

“How’d you do it?” he asked instead of answering.

“Do what?”

“Make your own cash,” he elaborated.

“It’s a home recipe,” Beth smirked.

“I guess you’ll have to show me sometime,” he said, downing his bourbon and getting up.

“Wait-”

“I know where to find you Elizabeth,” he said levelly, fixing her with a blank stare. “I always do. We’ll talk then,”

And he left, bourbon and courage burning in his stomach.

**

He left Beth’s wide frightened blue eyes to be met with  _ her  _ brown unsurprised and tired eyes. She looked like she had been crying.

“What are you doing here, Christopher?” she asked with a sigh.

Her shoulders sagged with defeat and a light flickered and died in her eyes. He tried not to take it personally.

“Can I, uh, come in?” he asked nervously. He was nervous. This shocked him. He hadn’t been nervous since the 10th grade. “Can we talk? Please?”

Asking for things was something that his therapist had encouraged him to start doing but it’s not like he had a lot of friends to ask for things. The experience was jarring to say the least.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” she said, voice wavering.

“I know, I know,” he said looking away. “I just… Can we please talk?”

She sighed and looked at him for several moments and he thought that she was gonna slam the door in his face but she stepped aside, giving him room to step into the apartment.

The apartment wasn’t too big and it was a little spartan. It looked pre-furnished and he remembered that he had her furniture in storage. He had put it there when she moved in. After all, what was his was hers and everything that she was, was his. She didn’t need it.

She gestured a sweater paw for him to sit in one of the uncomfortable armchairs and she sat across from him on what looked like an equally uncomfortable couch. She fiddled with the loose wool on the sleeve of her sweater and avoided his gaze. They were both quiet.

“I, uh, have your furniture in storage,” he said attempting to break the silence. “I can have some guys bring it over if you want…”

She cracked a tight, humourless smile at that. “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

They were both quiet again and he resisted the urge to crack his knuckles nervously, not wanting her to see how nervous he was. How nervous she made him.

“Why are you here?” she said slowly.

“I’m here,” he started. “Because I miss you. Because I want- Because I would like to give us another shot.”

“And why would we do that Christopher?” she asked, covering her face with her hands.

“Because I’m different,” he said, his courage wavering.

“Oh yeah?” she said laughing hollowly. “I know you’ve been watching me. Again.”

“I was, I was just trying to see you. Work up the guts to talk to you,” he said, looking away. 

She looked at him finally and fixed him with an angry look before standing up and storming into her bedroom. She came back out holding a handful of cameras and mics. The ones he had installed.

“You changed?” she spat. “I don’t think you even want to change.”

“I- I regretted doing that as soon as I did it,” he said shakily. It was a lie but she didn’t need to know that. “Shit, I even started seeing a fucking therapist.”

She looked taken aback by that and he saw in the low-light of the room that her eyes had started watering, her lips quivering with withheld tears.

“I started seeing a therapist,” he said again. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to be better for you.”

“Did you ever think about what I want?” she asked quietly, tilting her chin up defiantly. “Maybe I don’t want you anymore.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that. He opened his mouth to speak but she spoke again before he could.

“Maybe,” she said, voice trembling with rage and sadness. “Maybe, I don’t want you anymore because all you ever did was push me around, pressure me into doing what you wanted, and  _ hitting  _ me when I didn’t comply.”

“If people move too quickly, I flinch,” she sobbed. “You’re sitting there and I’m  _ scared. _ ”

“I am so sorry for what I did to you,” he said earnestly, leaning forward. He had to tread carefully.

She scoffed and sniffed. “Are you?”

“I am,” he said solemnly. He was sorry. In a way. “You deserved better than that. You deserved better than me.”

She just looked at him, eyes still wide and red-rimmed. She eventually shrugged and looked away, fiddling with her the loose piece of wool on her sweater.

“Look,” he said seriously. “Why don’t we take things slow.”

“Slow?”

“Why don’t we start from scratch?” he shrugged. “Just as friends. So you can get to know the new me.”

“As friends?” she asked sceptically, looking almost amused by the notion. “If there’s one thing I remember, you’re not a patient man.”

He was more patient than she could imagine.

“I told you,” he smirked. “I’m a changed man.”

“What if I don’t wanna be friends either?” she challenged.

He stopped himself before he could tense up in anger. “Then I respect that. I respect you and...your decisions.”

She eyed him up and down, attempting to appear stubborn.

But he already knew she was going to say yes. 

“Alright,” she said eventually.

She could never say no to him.

“But,” she said sharply and he schooled his features into a mask of relief rather than smug self-satisfaction. “If you try me even  _ once  _ then I’m gone and I’m getting a restraining order.”

“Fair enough,” he huffed. 

They were both quiet again and the silence grew more and more awkward with each passing moment. 

“You can go home now,” she mumbled. “You said what you had to. It’s late and I wanna get some sleep.”

“Right, right,” he chuckled softly. “Can I get your number?”

She gave him her number, feigning an air of reluctance and annoyance but he could see that her hands were shaking when she took his phone to enter her new number, her breath hitching when their hands brushed. 

He briefly understood why villains laughed maniacally. The thrill of knowing that he was  _ right,  _ that he still affected her and that his plans were coming to fruition? God, he was overjoyed.

This was for her own good. He was only giving her what she wanted.

Himself. And everything that entailed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked that ;)   
> Thanks for the support so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of a filler from the reader's perspective

God, she was stupid. She was so fucking stupid. 

She had been crying, the hole that  _ he  _ had left in her chest stinging like never before. She had been okay at first, once she had scraped some semblance of her life back together. But she was alone. Her life had been completely levelled by him.

She made new friends of course but they were mostly Ismael’s friends. She missed Annie and Ruby fiercely and to an extent she even missed Beth. But thinking about Beth just made the hole ache more.

She still spoke to Annie sometimes and their conversations for a moment made her forget that they weren’t counterfeiters and money-launderers. When they started up again, she decided to stay away from them because she knew that he was alive and that once he found out what they were doing, he would seek them out. 

And she couldn’t see him. 

Because she missed him so much it hurt. 

But she knew that taking him back would hurt a lot more. Knowing that didn’t lessen the pain of missing him but it stopped her from seeking him out from where she knew he was watching. It’s the fact that she knew he was watching. 

When she found the cameras, she spent a while hunched over the toilet, bile rising up her throat as she realised that he was exactly the same. 

So why did she miss him so much?

The next day, a Saturday, she spent feeling weighed down and confused. For split seconds she could swear that she could smell his cologne, that she could feel his hands on her. She longed for him in a way that she had never longed for anyone and it was then she knew that he had broken her. He had cracked her open and sowed a seed that took deep root.

And then that night, he was at her door. 

She was so fucking happy to see him but at the same time so angry. He had some nerve, coming back to her after he had bugged her apartment. He was exactly the same. He thought he could just force his way back into her life after everything he had put her through? She didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him. She was tired.

So against her better judgment, she let him in and one very awkward conversation she had somehow let him back into her life. It was conditional but he was still back.

She was a fool. 

***

“Just did a bad thing,” she sang as she sat down with a sigh.

“Oh, god,” Ismael groaned. 

Ismael. Her rock, her best friend, her fuckin' cinnamon apple, and voice of reason. They were as close as ever and he played a huge role in holding her together. She was immensely grateful for him. But there, sitting down for hot chocolate in their favourite cafe, she couldn't help but feel like she was throwing all the support he'd given her back in his face.

“I regret the thing I did,” she continued singing softly.

“What did you do?” Ismael said tiredly, leaning back in his seat. 

“And you’re wondering what it is, I’ll tell you what it is. Just did a  _ bad  _ thing,” she laughed.

“You ate a mango, didn’t you? You’re allergic to them and you ate one anyway,” he said accusatorially. 

“Well- No, actually. It’s actually worse,” she said growing serious. “He, uh, he came back.”

She didn’t need to explain who ‘he’ was. He knew exactly who she was talking about and he tensed accordingly. 

“Okay?” he sighed. “Continue.”

“He apologised and asked if we could be friends,” she said and she realised how ridiculous it all sounded. 

“Apologised? What did he say exactly?” Ismael said sceptically.

“That he was sorry for what he did to me and that I deserved better than him,” she shrugged. “That he’d changed.”

“Changed?” Ismael scoffed.

“Mm,” she hummed in confirmation. “Said he’s started going to therapy.”

“You know what I’m gonna say, right?” Ismael deadpanned.

“Not to trust him,” she snorted. 

“Good. So I don’t need to tell you to be careful?” Ismael huffed.

“I told him if he tried any shit with me, I’ll take a restraining order out on him,” she said.

“And what did he say?” 

“He smiled and he said fair enough,” she said, still surprised that he hadn’t completely blown up on her.

“You’re an idiot for even talking to him,” Ismael said.

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Ismael said, pointing a warning finger at me. “You should have slammed the door in his face.”

“I know,” she groaned. “But I-”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, too ashamed to admit to her best friend that she missed Christopher. That she still loved him as much as she resented him.

“Just be careful, okay?” Ismael said, holding her hand gently.

She felt that she had no choice but to be. If it turned out that he hadn’t changed, that he was the same…

He would most definitely destroy her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess you're gonna have to read and find out lol

Christopher in his aspect as Rio watched Beth from a stool in the small, quaint paper shop that Beth had transformed into her criminal headquarters.

It was late into the night, guaranteeing that they wouldn't be disturbed. Beth was set to show him how she had managed to print surprisingly high quality of counterfeit money. Her movements, while sure, were jerky and robotic, her hands trembling ever so slightly as he regarded. He could almost smell the fear on her, scent the adrenaline and sweat emanating from her pores. He tried not to show how much her fear pleased him.

Maybe that's why he did it. Maybe that's why he fucked her. Aside from her being, you know, there, he relished in unleashing himself on a willing albeit fearful participant. It wasn't the same as it was with  _ her _ but it did the job at the moment. 

Although, he knew full well that he fucked Beth to get back at  _ her _ . To show her that she was replaceable, dispensable. To confirm the insecurities that he knew she had when it came to his affection for her.

_ I don't understand why you're with me, _ she'd said.  _ You could have anybody you want. _

_ I want you, _ he'd said firmly.

_ Why? _

He'd never given her a straight answer, instead of doing what he was wont to do and distracting her with sex. 

She was almost too submissive for her own good.

But that was it. That's why he wanted her. She had an almost natural disposition to submission, to allowing herself to be moulded however another wished. To surrendering herself to the will of another. He knew he could hurt her and pleasure her and she would thank him for it. She needed him.

So when she went out without telling him, to see a man that he hated on principle, arriving home happy with a stuffed animal, he saw red. 

He fucked Beth to punish her. He had been foolish. 

He would not make the same mistake again. 

He knew that he made his bed and lust lie in it but he couldn't deny the hatred and vitriol that simmered in his veins, sitting there with Beth before him. Because it was nestled between Beth's legs that he had driven her away, seemingly for good.

He could kill Beth. Right there.

He would not shoot her and leave a gift for ballistics. He would do it slowly, with his bare hands. Choking her the same way he did over that dingy bathroom sink.

"Done," Beth said shakily, holding out a crisp dollar bill.

He took the bill from her, fixing her with a hard state just to see her squirm. He examined the bill, holding it up to the light and rubbing the bill between his thumb and forefinger, finding it crisp and starchy, a founding father staring flatly at him.

It was amazing. 

"So?" Beth asked croakily. "What do you think?"

"I think I need you alive," he said giving her a sidelong glance.

Rio wished he could replace the relief that seemed to hang in the air around Beth, with fear once again.

But there was time for that yet.

***

"I've changed my mind," she said, looking like she would be sick any moment.

Christopher stood at her front door, staring down at her in incredulity.

"Changed your mind about what?" He asked, attempting to appear non-threatening.

"I don't think we should give  _ this, _ " she said, gesturing feverishly between them. "A second chance."

"I get it," he sighed. "I fucked up. I did some unforgivable shit. I mean, shit, I even kidnapped you."

She looked at him gobsmacked, shocked at his transparency. Shocked at how he was taking accountability. 

He would've been a little insulted if it weren't for the fact that the 'old Christopher' would've gaslit the socks off her. 

The new him still would. Just not yet.

"I promise that I'm trying to change," he said earnestly, rubbing the back of his head in a manner that screamed 'aw shucks'. "But if you're sure that you don't wanna see me no more? I'll leave you alone."

"You'll leave me alone?" She parrotted dubiously.

"I'll leave you alone," he said solemnly.

She was quiet for a spell, searching his face for deception, for smugness, for patches of red that betrayed his devilish nature. He tried to appear as sincere as possible even though it almost physically pained him to promise to stay away from her.

"I don't want to see you anymore," she blurted.

He opened his mouth to assure her that it was fine even though it was anything but fine but she had already slammed the door in his face.

Well. That was unexpected.

Christopher drove home somewhat stunned. He sat in his favourite armchair, nursing a finger of whiskey and feeling anger summer dangerously in his gut.

How dare she shut him out like that.

He wanted to punish her. Take her over his lap and spank her till she was crying and remembered her fucking place. Then he'd hold her down and fuck her until he emptied himself and his rage into her. She'd thank him, just as she had countless times before. Those were the rules.

He briefly considered kidnapping her and keeping her tied up in the basement of one of his many homes. 

He disposed of the idea quickly, remembering that there was a certain pendejo who would sorely miss her and lead the police straight to him. 

But that wasn't all. There was something intoxicating about willful submission. About  _ her  _ willful submission. The desire that pooled in his gut at tying her up didn't pool the same as the desire of  _ her asking _ him to tie her up. Of her asking him to hurt her. Of her asking him to cum inside her. Of her asking him to choke her.

He had unwittingly formed an unhealthy addiction to her willful submission. 

He could force her to bend to his will, manipulate her or let Stockholm syndrome do the work for him. But it wouldn't be the same.

This would be his last resort.

It wasn't just about sex, of course. It was the gentleness with which she would approach him. The softness of her hand in his, the gentle way she'd run her fingers through his buzzcut, the soft way she'd kiss his cheek, the way she'd painstakingly cook for him. She  _ satisfied _ him.

But sitting there in the dark with her words running through his mind, he was anything but satisfied.

No matter. He would wait. He would show her that he was  _ different _ . He would show her that a changed man, a better man awaited her if she came back to him. 

He would not follow her around as he usually did, he wouldn't text her. He would stay away.

She would come to him.

And then he would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spamming y'all with updates :


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter just for you because I'm a little busy at the moment and I wanted to give you something juicy 😋

She couldn't believe it.

He'd actually left her alone.

She tried to go about her business, going about her usual routine despite the ache in her heart but she noticed that his watchful gaze was just...gone. He seemed to disappear altogether from her life, the only trace of him the spectres that haunted the dark crevices of her mind.

She should have been relieved. She should have been out getting hammered with Ismael because she was finally  _ free _ . 

Why was she so…  _ disappointed _ ?

Maybe he had actually changed. Maybe he had actually realised that you can’t treat people like shit and expect them to stick around. 

Had she jumped the gun? Been overly judgmental? People do change and grow but not that much time had passed so how much changing and growing could he have really done, realistically speaking?

Didn’t change the fact that she ached for him. That she wanted him with a bone-deep burning desire. She missed how he filled every single gap in her life, how he was everything she needed whenever she needed. A small, sad, and mangled part of her even missed the times he would hit her. A small argument escalating into a sharp crack of his palm across her face, taking the fight out of her in one fell swoop. She missed it. She missed it only insofar as she missed how sweet he would be to her afterwards. She sometimes wondered if, on some subconscious level, she would piss him off just to get him to hit her. Hit her and then be sweet. This was the cycle. Perhaps she had been an active participant and she didn’t even know. He definitely accused her of it before.

Even more reason to stay away from him.

There was also the question of his...career. She didn’t know if he was still washing cash and she wouldn’t be surprised if he was. There was also the tiny problem of Beth’s burgeoning enterprise as a mommy mob boss. 

If she was smart she’d stay away from the lot of them. 

But what if he’d actually changed? What if she was depriving herself of the best version of the man she loved?

What if? What if? What if?

She lay on the bed of her apartment that still didn’t feel like home, staring at the ceiling, the fan spinning at a sedate, almost hypnotic, pace. She turned onto her side, cuddling up to a pillow and wishing it was him. Wishing she should lay her head on his firm chest, listening to the strong and steady beat of his heart. Wishing she could stop feeling so cold. 

She stared thoughtfully at her phone, at the chat with his name on it. 

_ Me: Can we talk? _

_ Me: In-person I mean. _

She stared at her phone harder, expecting a quick response like he always used to do but was surprised when it didn’t come through. Somewhat perturbed, she put her phone aside, clasping her hadns on her stomach and staring a hole into the ceiling. 

Any minute now.

A minute turned to five, five turned to fifteen and fifteen turned to an hour. Still no response. 

Maybe he was different after all. 

Why was she so disappointed?

***

Christopher had just picked up some good cash from Beth, her sour expression lifting his mood more than he thought it would. Just as Mick, hsi right hand, picked up a sufficiently large duffel his phone chimed. It was his private cell so he knew exactly who it was. 

_ Can we talk?  _

Bingo.

He thought about replying immediately with a firm and resounding ‘ _ yes!!!’  _ but no.

He was going to make her wait. He was going to make her want him.

He could almost see it in his mind’s eye. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with her phone in front of her, waiting. Wondering. Or perhaps she was on her back staring at the ceiling trying to feign patience. She was probably worrying away at her bottom lip in that way that mad ehim want to kiss her till she was breathless. 

It was only a matter of time until he could. But until then, she would wait.

A couple of hours later, he decided to be kind and finally text her back and put her out of her misery. He wasn’t totally heartless. 

_ Christopher: Yeah, sure. What do you have in mind? _

And just as he expected, she responded almost immediately.

_ Waffles at that diner we used to go to? Tonight? _

Oh, this was almost too  _ easy!  _ It wasn’t too late but it was late enough that he knew that she really wanted to see him. She tried to hide it but he knew better than anyone just how needy she was. He wasn’t complaining, after all that was the point.

_ Christopher: Cool. Pick you up in 20 minutes? _

_ See you then _

Christopher briefly entertained the notion of showing up maybe ten minuted late, just to make her squirm but that would be rude. Not to mention, counterproductive. He knew how much she hated people being late because she said that it made her feel like they didn’t care about her or her time. But he had to show her that he did care. That he was better.

So exactly twenty minutes later, he was ringing her doorbell, trying not to look too smug or excited.

He heard hurried footsteps and muffled swearing before the door was wrenched open revealing a rather flustered young woman that was trying not to look too happy to see him and failing rather spectacularly. He noted absently that she was wearing his favourite sundress with a soft cardigan, her braids piled atop her head messily as usual. It was just like the first time.

“Hey,” he said smiling widely. “You ready to go?”

“Hey,” she said shyly, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Ye-yeah, I’m ready.”

One somewhat awkward car ride later, they were sat at their usual table at ther favourite diner with a plate of their favourite waffled. Well. They were actually her favourite waffled but she liked to share and she liked it when he would feed her. He normally hated giving her sweet things but he often brought her to the diner after a particularly rough fight, her tear streaked face always breaking into a smile as the sweetness of the waffles filled her mouth. How poetic that she would ask him here of all places.

“So,” he started casually, leaning forward. “What did you wanna talk about?”

She looked up at him wide-eyed, somehow forgetting why the were there. She sat up straighter, licking the whipped cream from her full lips in a way that made him want to growl. But he schooled his features into a mask of calm bemusement rather than hunger. 

“Uh, I thought about what you said,” she started, fiddling with her ring nervously. “About starting from scratch?”

“Uh-huh,” he said nodding patiently.

“I’m sorry, I slammed the door in your face like that, by the way,” she rushed out. “That was kinda rude and shitty.”

“No hard feelings,” he chuckled. He meant it. It was a minor hiccup.

“Still. I’m sorry,” she said smiling wanly. 

“It’s cool,” he said smiling with a shrug. 

“But yeah,” she said slowly. “I- I do want to try. Starting from scratch, I mean.”

“What made you change your mind?” he asked.

She shrugged noncommittally, taking another bite of waffle just so she’d have something to do with her hands.

“I think everyone deserves second chances,” she said with a nod. “And so far...It hasn’t been long but you seem different.”

“So that’s it?” he chuckled. “You’re just being...charitable?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah,” she huffed. “And I…”

“Yeah?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I missed you,” she admitted. “I hated that things turned out the way they did.”

“I missed you too,” he said earnestly, leaning forward but resisting the urge to take her hands in his.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” she said quietly. “But I had to do what I had to.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he whispered fervently, caving and taking her hadn in his. 

She looked at where their hands were laced and her expression shuttered into a cold, hard mask. She retracted her hand.

“I need to make something clear,” she said, voice harder than he had ever heard it. 

He nodded, signalling for her to continue. His heart thundering in his chest uncharacteristically.

“If you put your hands on me again,” she said voice low and dangerous. “That bullet just might find it’s mark next time.”

Well.

“Fair enough,” he breathed, blinking in shock.

“Either that or a restraining order,” she chirped, taking another bite of her waffles. “Whichever comes first.”

“Noted,” he chuckled despite knowing she was 100% serious. 

They were quiet for a while, the threat hanging ominously in the air.

"Friends?" He asked tentatively.

She finished her waffles and sat back with a huff, rolling her eyes.

"Sure," she conceded. "For now."

Yeah. For now.

**

Things seemed to be looking up. Christopher was making more money than ever, most of the people he hated were dead and he was one step closer to having his girl back. Life was swell. 

Only thing left to do was stab Beth in the back.

Hence why he was darkening the door of the quaint establishment known as The Paper Porcupine. He surveyed the rustic cozy interior of the shop, hands clasped behind his back feigning nonchalance. He stuck out like a sore thumb and he knew it. Just as well, a small Asian woman approached him. No doubt to inform him that he was frightening the Karen's. She surprised him by smiling politely before introducing herself.

"Hey, I'm Lucy! Can I help you?" She chirped. "I like your tattoo, by the way!"

"Yeah, I think you can actually," he smiled, a little thrown off by her cheery nature. "And, uh, thank you."

"What does it mean?" Lucy asked curiously.

"It's for this club I'm in," he said with a chuckle. It wasn't technically false.

"Cool! I used to sling ink to pay for art school. Sling? Sling?" She said with a chuckle.

"I think it's slang?" He laughed, finding himself oddly endeared to Lucy. "That's cool, so you're an artist?"

"Yeah, I do all the design work here. Custom orders, stuff like that," she said with a nod.

Just as he thought.

"Oh," he said in mock surprise. "If someone wanted something special printed, you would draw it?"

"But you'd pick the paper and colours," Lucy elaborated.

"But you'd draw it?" Christopher pressed.

“Yeah, and then we make an engraver’s plate and print it all on-site,” Lucy explained.

“Cool,” Christopher nodded.

“Yeah, uh, one-stop-shop,” Lucy said smiling. 

“You know, that’s good, cause I’m, um, I’d like to get rid of the person I’m using now,” Christopher said casually.

He really would.

“Really?” Lucy asked, unaware of the double-entendre.

“Yeah, not so reliable,” he said smiling wryly.

“Well, won’t happen on my watch,” Lucy said earnestly. “Just let me know if I can help.”

“Lucy, I think you can,” he said smiling widely.

He liked Lucy. So wide-eyed and unassuming. A lot like his girl. He might just let her live. She seemed smart enough not to talk. 

So he contemplated this from the stool he was sat down on while his men stood imposingly around him, all of them surrounding Lucy’s desk as she worked, her hands shaking as she held the stylus of her drawing pad. She was smart to be afraid. Beth and her entourage standing off to the side, stiff as boards each looking like they'd swallowed a lemon. But his mind wasn't really on them.

He had spent many afternoons watching his girl hunched over her laptop the way Lucy was. He had watched her clutch her hands as they seized and cramped, almost turning to claws as the muscles protested from overuse. He wanted her to stop working because he wanted to be everything she needed, everything she wanted. But also because he didn't like to see her in pain. Unless he was the one hurting her. Unless she had asked him to hurt her.

God, he missed her. 

He could feel Beth's eyes boring into the side of his head, probably wishing a very painful death upon him. He wondered if Beth still spoke to his girl. Would Beth report back to her. Tell his girl that he was just as cruel, just as crooked.

He had to play his cards right.

“How we doin’ champ?” he said easily, leaning forward towards Lucy with a smile.

“My hands keep shaking,” Lucy grimaced apologetically and he made the decision to be magnanimous and spare her. After all, he'd changed.

“Yeah?” he said levelly, still smiling. “It’s okay.”

He saw Beth close her eyes in his periphery and he imagined that she was praying that they would escape with their lives. 

Too bad that wasn't up to God. It was up to him. He commanded their fates in that moment.

“Just take your time, no rush,” he assured Lucy.

“She doesn’t need to be involved,” Beth said almost pleadingly.

“Oh, cause you can do this?” he asked, raising his voice slightly and he cursed inwardly when Lucy flinched. 

“How about you two?” Christopher asked Annie and Ruby snidely.

“No,” Ruby said quietly.

“I have the software,” Annie said shakily and he considered shooting her. .

“No,” he said to Annie, and she shook her head and averted her eyes. 

“All this time,” he said to Beth, smirking. “I thought you were the one doing the heavy lifting.”

“Just let her go,” Beth responded, not rising to the bait.

“And here you are stealing my girl’s thunder,” he smirked, gesturing at Lucy who smiled shyly. “Ain’t y’all supposed to be lifting each other up these days?”

“So much for feminism,” one of his men, Mick, said wryly and Christopher laughed, mostly at the look of annoyance that passed over Beth’s face.

“Maybe you don’t need to be involved,” he said lowly, no longer smiling.

Suddenly a voice from the front of the shop chirped, calling for Lucy and he turned around tense.

“It’s Mrs Harris, I told her that I’d stay late so that she could pick up her order,” Lucy said grimacing apologetically.

“Go tell Mrs Harris we’re closed, okay?” he said lowly.

“Okay,” Lucy breathed nervously and she went to go attend to the customer.

“Go with her,” he ordered Beth, leaving no room for argument. Beth had no choice but to go, her lips pursing in irritation.

“Oh, and be smart, yeah?” he said lightly.

They took longer than expected, the woman’s nasal voice droning on and on about invitations or some other thing he didn’t care about before he heard the storefront door jingle closed. He could hear Beth whispering frantically, her voice rising despite herself. She was probably telling Lucy all kinds of ghost stories about him and he smirked to himself. He amused himself with the thought of being a chief player in Beth's nightmares.

Eventually, after some more hushed conversation, they came back in. Lucy sat back down and continued working before saving the designs to a flash drive.

“All done,” she declared eventually. “Um, feel free to email me any questions but it’s all on there.”

“Cool,” he nodded, smiling slightly.

“Uh, graphicfarts89@gmail,” she said shakily and he smiled wider, prompting her to smile back shyly. “I, um, spelt it wrong and then, uh, got stuck with it.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” he said to Beth and Co., standing up and smirking at Beth just to rile her up. 

“We have a ride,” Beth and friends said in unison.

“Let’s go,” he said, brooking no room for argument. 

They were all outside in the crisp night air as he helped Lucy into the back of a large black van, it's presence now redundant.

"Let's get you home, champ," he said jovially. "We'll drop you off wherever you want. It's the least we could do."

"Lucy, don't," Beth said, voice firm but fearful.

"Here's the thing," he started with a sigh. "I've been doing this a long time. Only way someone like you gets hurt is if you talk. You're not gonna talk, right?"

"No," Lucy said demurely, shaking her head fervently.

"I got your word?" He pressed.

"I cross my heart," Lucy swore. How cute.

"Then you'll never see me again," he smirked. "Unless I got questions about those engraver's plates."

He turned back around to Beth, fixed to say something threatening so that when he did eventually have time to kill her, she'd smell sweet and fearful but she interrupted him.

"Wait!" Beth said shakily. "What kinda packing are you gonna put on the plates?"

"What?" He said flatly.

"What if the press gets too hot?" Beth asked instead of answering.

"Well, that's not your problem anymore now is it?" He asked, a warning note to to his voice. 

"What happens if you get ghost marks on the rollers? What happens if you get slur on the halftones?" Beth sneered.

Beth seemed fond of speeches so he simply levelled her with an unimpressed look.

"It means your ink's too thin," Beth spat, lip curling. "So even with a perfect plate it's gonna look like your son made it."

Ugh, did she really have to continue breathing. Why did printing fake cash have to be so much fucking work? Beth wasn't finished though.

"How long did it take you to get the security glow?" She asked Ruby.

"Um, a while…" Ruby mumbled.

"You think they sell that colour at home depot?" Beth demanded. He was tempted to shoot her in a non-lethal place just to make a point.

"What if you add too much water to the mulch?" Beth asked Annie.

"Starch builds up," Annie said shakily.

"And why don't we like that?" Beth demanded.

"Because, because then the paper w-won't feel right," Annie half sobbed. "You won't even be able to pass it off at a bodega!"

"You need us," Beth spat. "You need all of us."

He simply smiled, knowing that it would frighten and anger Beth in equal measure.

"For now anyway," he drawled.

Beth opened her mouth to argue but he was already in the van and driving away, Lucy panting ever so slightly in the back, leaving a no doubt flabbergasted Beth in his wake.

It didn't matter. He was patient. Beth was on borrowed time. 

In any case, he had a date to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typed this on my phone so all typos are mine lol.  
> Hope you liked that!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of filler

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing," Christopher chuckled.

"Then why are you looking at me...like that," she said waving her fingers in his direction.

They were sat at Christopher's favourite sushi bar, now hers, where they were treated to omakase, entrusting themselves to the clearly highly trained chef. She always felt weird going there because it cost an arm and a leg but he insisted that dinner would be on him. Seeing her across from him, smiling shyly like old times, it warmed his poor excuse for a heart.

"I missed you," he shrugged, smirking slightly when she shyly averted her eyes.

"Friends, remember?" she mumbled.

"I miss my friends, don't you miss your friends?" He chuckled slyly.

"Hm, sure,", she deadpanned but her eyes shone with amusement.

"For real though," he drawled. "I really did miss you."

"I, uh, I guess I missed you too," she mumbled shyly, before stuffing her mouth with rice and he knew she was being honest if a little guarded.

"How was your day?" He asked, attempting to assuage her awkwardness.

"Um, it was okay?" she shrugged. "Went to work, had lunch with Ismael, the usual. Well, now I'm here with you so that's... unusual."

"Yeah, yeah," Christopher said distractedly, trying desperately to tamp down the anger bubbling up inside him. "Ismael, huh?"

"Don't," she said, voice hard and cold.

"I'm not doing anything," he retorted mildly. "I told you. I'm different."

She looked at him suspiciously, her eyes wide with barely concealed fear. 

"You're allowed to have friends, babygirl," he huffed with a small smile. "Ain't nothing to me."

"Really?" She said dubiously.

He simply shrugged. Almost as though he was shirking the bothersome notion of his girl spending time with another man.

"So," he started uncertainly. "You guys are just friends? I mean, shit. I guess I'm wondering why you never gave it a shot with him. After me."

She smiled a small wry smile, somewhat tinged with sadness.

"We, uh, we did," she admitted, her chopsticks shaking in her unsteady hands. "We tried to date for a month or so but we don't have that kind of, um, chemistry. So. Friends."

"Fair enough," Christopher shrugged nonchalantly, even though he wanted nothing more than to hurt and rage. 

"We did sleep together," she blurted, her eyes fixed on him, gauging his reaction. "I know you're wondering so...there it is. I did sleep with him. Several times."

Deep breaths. Steady hands. 

She was goading him. He knew this. But that didn't stop him from wanting to slap her across the mouth. 

"Hey, I can't really judge you for, uh, sleeping with other people," he said with halting caution. "Considering how things ended…"

"You're not mad?" She asked incredulously.

"I keep telling you," he smirked. "I'm a changed man."

She seemed stunned. She rubbed her cheek absentmindedly, feeling the slap that very well could have been.

He wanted nothing more than to manhandle her and spread her over the table they were sat at, ravage her until she was crying just the way she liked and she had no doubt that she belonged to no one except _ him _ . 

"When can I see you again?" Christopher asked instead. Not really his style to give people  _ options _ but he was playing this carefully.

She smiled, genuinely that time and he knew that he was chipping away at her resolve. 

"Anytime you want, if you keep buying me dinner," she joked. 

"How about tomorrow?" He asked, voice low as he ran his fingers lightly over her hand. She shivered imperceptibly.

"Sure, yeah, tomorrow is fine," she stammered, brown eyes blown wide. Still so receptive.

"Awesome, thank you,", he said, voice low and sultry as he leaned towards her and he smiled when she leaned towards him too, almost dazed.

As she leaned forward, he imagined her taking a single long step forward. A step closer to being  _ his. _

***

While Christopher was undoubtedly overjoyed at the prospect of seeing his girl again, especially so soon after their date, he couldn’t deny the underlying anger that coursed through him after the date in question. 

_ This isn’t a date,  _ she had said.  _ It’s only sushi between friends. Platonic sushi.  _

He could see that she was trying to convince herself rather than actually talking to him and he tried not to look too smug. But that’s not what pissed him off. What pissed him off was the thought of that  _ bitchboy _ sleeping with  _ his  _ girl. It was enough to make him grind his teeth, he was so angry. 

He couldn’t get the image out of his mind, the mental picture seeming to flash against his eyelids every time he so much as blinked. His girl, face slack with pleasure as some other asshole moved against her. That pendejo was probably  _ gentle  _ with her. The spineless prick. The saving grace is that it didn’t work out between them. He might’ve had to kill  _ Ismael  _ and that would just overcomplicate matters. 

But yeah. He was pissed.

Pissed that she had the goddamn nerve to even throw that in his face when she knew that it would make his blood boil. She really got it into her pretty little head to  _ test  _ him. 

It just made him want her more if only to put her back in her fucking place. 

He carried his anger with him like a stain. He was more snappish than usual and his men looked more terrified than usual, such was his fury. He carried it around all day up until his meeting with Beth. He Christopher had hoped that a fresh batch of genuine cash would improve his mood. 

He had to physically hold himself back from putting a bullet in Beth’s head when Mick, his right hand, informed him that the boxes felt a little light.

Beth fixed him with her usual challenging glare as he stood above the three women sitting at the park bench. Annie and Ruby avoided his gaze as usual. It almost seemed like they thought they’d turn to stone if they met his gaze.

Mick took the daintily wrapped boxes from the table and he fixed his boss with the same meaningful stare, his brow ever so slightly furrowed in annoyance.

“How we feeling?” he asked loudly, already knowing the answer.

“Still light,” Mick replied, each word seeming to weigh tonnes.

“Some fancy ink,” Christopher remarked, smiling humourlessly looking down at his sneakers.

“The pigments from India,” Ruby said shakily, still not looking at him.

“Why do I get the feeling this ink guy’s robbing me blind?” he asked knowingly, looking at Beth.

“I can’t control the world market,” Beth said primly with a shrug and he smiled. Did she take him for some kind of idiot?

“Well, bring him by,” he said in faux cheer and Beth stiffened.

“Why?”

“I’d like to meet him,” he said matter-of-factly, the challenge evident in his voice. “You know? See if we could work something out.”

“He’s in Oklahoma,” Annie piped up, finally looking at him.

“Thought you said Kansas city?” he asked Beth, an edge to his voice.

“Isn’t that in Oklahoma?” Annie asked slowly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Missouri,” Ruby said tiredly.

He looked away from the pair to fix the brains of their operation with an unflinching stare.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Beth conceded.

“Cool,” he smirked, turning away from the women, eager to get away so that he could calm down in time for his date.

“What about the next run?” Beth piped up.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen till I get my costs down,” he said casually.

“You’re still making a profit. It’s still good business right?” Beth said indignantly, finally cracking. 

“Not if you don’t trust your partners,” he said walking away from them to his Benz.

He should have killed Beth when he had the chance.

He thought this for the umpteenth time when Beth sat him down across from the supposed ink guy. 

The guy was young and somewhat ridiculous looking with a haircut that made him look like a makeup brush. He was shaking like a leaf and Rio knew that he could probably just stare at the guy and the so-called prices would drop like the NASDAQ. 

What made him want to kill Beth with painful slowness is the fact that the guy obviously had a gun pointed at him from under the table. 

Beth was dumber than she looked. Was she really gonna make some nobody kill him in the middle of a crowded bar? And then what? He couldn’t believe that he had allowed someone so foolish into his enterprise. 

Just as well that the guy in Beth’s employ was a complete amateur that probably just wanted to make a quick buck.

Christopher sipped at his bourbon while the man he learned was named JT just stared at him, seemingly frozen in his seat. 

“I’m all ears,” Christopher prompted. 

“Go ahead,” Beth said to JT, her voice hard and tinged with impatience. Christopher simply regarded the man with a cold stare. JT’s right arm so stiff it was probably painful.

JT blinked nervously, stammering incoherently as his forehead beaded with sweat. Beth would have had better luck trying to kill him with a spoon.

“Well, um, well,” JT stammered and Christopher’s patience started to grow thin.

“Just,” Beth said with feigned calmness. “Give it to him straight.”

JT’s arm began to tremble then as he trembled and sweated, his coke untouched as it bubbled almost ominously between them. He fixed Beth with an unamused and warning stare, daring her to go through with whatever she had planned. He would just brush it off and then he would take her. Take her far away where he could hurt her until he stopped feeling so angry.

“I made a mistake,” JT blurted and he took his eyes off Beth, his anger and bloodlust, dimming to give way to intrigue. Beth’s head whipped to look at JT incredulously. “I shouldn’t have tried to raise my prices on you.”

“You almost lost a customer,” Christopher said smoothly, looking at his glass of bourbon. He could see Beth’s crestfallen face in his mind’s eye.

“I’m so sorry,” JT said emphatically, his frame trembling like a leaf.

“All good,” Christopher said, finishing the last of his bourbon and getting up to leave. “Glad we could work it out.”

“Wait,” Beth piped up, and he turned to stand in front of her, glaring down at her. 

“That all?” she asked JT, her voice hard. 

“Th-thanks for the coke,” JT said smiling unctuously and Christopher wanted to slam his face into the table.

“Yeah, on the house,” he smirked before patting Beth on the shoulder. “You work with really smart people.”

He leaned close to Beth, close enough for his breath to fan across the side of Beth’s face, making her shiver. 

“You pull a stunt like this again, I’m gonna hurt you, Elizabeth,” he said lowly. “I’m gonna hurt you and I’m gonna hurt your kids.”

Christopher strode away quickly not leaving any time for Beth to plead or bargain with him. All he heard was a faint sob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked that! Hope to get another update to you by tomorrow


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut and feels? I think?

Slowly but surely, she was spending almost all her time with Christopher. It wasn’t like before when he would be blowing up her phone nearly 24/7, letting her know he was coming by. This time he would  _ ask. Ask _ . As in give her the option to say no. And if she did say no, which she did occasionally given that she had a full-time job, he didn’t make her feel bad about it like he used to. He’d just shrug and let it go, asking her to tell him when next she was free instead. So whenever she could say yes, she did.

Was she in the Twilight Zone?

Not too long ago he was practically growling possessively and backhanding her when she fell out of line but it was like he was a whole new person. His presence wasn’t as suffocating. He felt so much lighter. He smiled more, his touch was gentler and it was like he was taking improv classes because she couldn’t stop laughing around him. 

Her face hurt from how much she’d been smiling lately. 

But she couldn’t deny how afraid she was. Sure, they were just ‘friends’ but she wasn’t stupid. She could feel herself falling for him again. And then what?

Would the mask fall? Would he beat her black and blue for shooting him and sleeping with another man? What if she ended up right back where she started?

What if? The question plagued her mind, tinged every thought about him. And she was thinking about him. She would even dream about him. Strange, hyperreal dreams but dreams nonetheless. Dreams that made her wonder if he’d found some way into her head, Inception-style. 

But what if?

They had just gone out for dinner and a movie. They had just seen ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’, a veritably strange and abstract piece of cinema that Christopher knew she’d love. 

_ It’s one of those blue and orange weird-ass movies you’re always goin’ on about. Judging by the reviews, it seemed right up your alley,  _ he’d said.

_ It’s not a crime to enjoy a good screenplay and colour grading,  _ she’d retorted. 

He had muttered something to the effect of ‘pretentious art hoe shit’ and she had playfully nudged him in the ribs. He’d been right of course. She loved the movie and more so she loved the fact that he knew that she’d love it. She also appreciated the fact that he’d sat through it with her even though his brow was furrowed in befuddlement afterwards. 

“What the fuck was that?” he’d asked in confusion.

“I don’t know!” she said in delight, and she’d reflexively grabbed his hand as they walked to his car. She jerked like she’d been burned and pulled her hand away but he’d chuckled and gently took her hand back in his. 

“Come on, friends hold hands,” he’d laughed. “Ever been to a pre-school? Everybody’s holdin’ hands.”

“We’re not exactly pre-schoolers,” she’d deadpanned and he’d waved his hand dismissively. 

“Whatever,” he’d chuckled. “Anyway, what do you wanna eat?”

“You choose. I’m always choosing where we eat,” she’d half-whined. Indecisive was practically her middle name and while she liked being given options instead of Christopher calling the shots, she was a little sick of being in charge.

“You asked for it,” he’d smiled somewhat deviously. Oh, no.

He held her hand in the car to the restaurant and she hoped to God her hands weren’t sweaty. Her nervousness was forgotten when they pulled up to what was a very expensive restaurant. She groaned and let her head fall back against the car seat headrest with a soft thump.

“Hey, you said I should choose and I happen to have very expensive taste,” he’d said smugly. 

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The restaurant turned out to be a Korean restaurant that happened to sell a very high quality of Hanwoo beef judging by the prices. After she’d scowled at her menu for the umpteenth time, he’d huffed in amusement and told her that it was on him. 

“That, weirdly, doesn’t make me feel better,” she muttered. 

“Let me do something nice for you,” he’d shrugged with a soft smile. 

She begrudgingly agreed and when she tasted the steak that an attendant grilled for them just to make sure they didn't fuck up the beautifully marbled and very expensive cuts of meat, she immediately understood why it was so expensive. Of course, she had a love for galbi regardless of the quality of meat so maybe she was biased.

Lettuce wraps and fermented soybean stew were interspersed with a few glasses of wine and a single shot of soju. All of which was a little too much for a lightweight like her. They talked and laughed and basked in the lightness of the moment. When her speech started to slur slightly and she started getting giggly and flirty, Christopher of the iron constitution declared that he was gonna take her home.

He held her hand to her place and she smiled and sighed contentedly. He was so good to her.

So standing at her front door, she turned to face him with a shy smile. Usually, she'd smile and say goodnight and slink into her living room feeling far too warm but this time, emboldened by alcohol, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Christopher's lips.

He tensed momentarily in surprise but he soon deepened the kiss, winding his arms around her waist. He nipped softly at her bottom lip and she mewled into his mouth softly, the wine in her blood heightening her arousal. But her arousal was tamped down when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

"We should slow down," he said, voice husky.

"But why?" She whined, slurring ever so slightly.

"Because you've been drinking and I need to know that you want this, baby girl," he said, running a finger down the side of her face.

She understood why he was pumping the brakes because she was admittedly tipsy and a rather slutty drunk. She didn't want to do something she'd regret…

"Can I see you again tomorrow then?" She asked wide-eyed, hands slightly fisted in his shirt but she didn't have it in her to be embarrassed about how needy she was being.

"Of course, yeah," he said quietly, cradling her face in his hand.

She sighed into his touch with a soft smile.

**

Elation. Pride. Vindication even.

Christopher knew that she still wanted him but to finally peel back the layers of hurt and distrust to find his soft and submissive baby girl...he was happier than he could articulate.

It took everything in him not to press her against her front door and fuck her until she cried and creamed on his cock but he stifled his arousal and his ferocity. He had shown her for the umpteenth time that he had changed. And she'd been disappointed. Soon she would beg.

He wondered absently if she was frustrated. He wondered if she was thinking of him. He wondered if she'd use her fingers or a toy because he knew for sure that she'd touch herself. 

All in due time.

**

The next evening, Christopher knocked on her front door and tried not to completely ravish her when she opened the door in the short sundress that she knew he liked.

"Hey," she breathed, smiling widely and wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Come in. I thought we'd hang out here instead so I cooked."

"You didn't have to do all that," he smiled, feeling oddly touched. He had his hooks back in her. "We could've just ordered in."

"I wanted to," she insisted with a smile as she led him to the kitchen. "To say thank you for dinner last night."

"What did you make?" Christopher asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"I know you like Thai so I fixed up some Thai yellow curry and jasmine rice. Nothing too fancy," she said smiling shyly.

Christopher almost couldn't believe how easy it had been to win her back. The most difficult part had been holding himself back from screwing her brains out and giving her space. Everything else had been a cakewalk. And now here she was. In her cute little dress and an apron, telling him that she'd cooked his favourite meal. 

"Aw, you remembered," he smirked, putting a hand to his chest in faux sincerity. "Softie."

"Shut up," she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously though, thank you," he said lowly. He got up to give her a soft hug, placing the lightest of kisses on her cheek. Her breath hitched and he pretended not to notice. 

"Anytime," she smiled, attempting to seem nonchalant and failing.

Dinner was uneventful but there was a burgeoning tension between them. He could feel her glancing shyly at him when she thought he wasn't looking and wouldn't notice. She cleared her throat pointedly and took their empty plates, making him stay where he was with a glass of wine while she cleaned up.

Christopher couldn't help his wandering gaze and she puttered around the kitchen, every time she bent down he was treated to the sight of her bare thighs in the short dress. And every so often, he'd get a glimpse of her clothed sex. White lace panties. Oh, he was going to wreck her. 

Soon, they were on the couch, a much more comfortable one now that she had her old furniture back, and they cuddled up to watch Lovecraft County. Well, the TV was on but both their minds were on the space between them, hands barely touching. 

Surprisingly she scooted closer to him, their thighs touching and he let his body relax, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. Just as he suspected, she moved even closer, leaning her head against his shoulder as she tucked herself into his side. He wrapped his arm around her. With her body pressed against his, he could feel her heart thundering in her chest.

Christopher felt her look up at him and he looked at her. 

Fuck it.

He bent down slightly and few her into a deep and heated kiss which she sighed blissfully into. He kissed her like she'd disappear the moment he stopped, nipping at her full lips. He trailed kisses along her jaw, before moving to trail kisses along her neck, making her pant, her breath coming out in high keens.

"I want you," she breathed, hands fisted tightly in his shirt. "I want you."

"You sure?" He asked with feigned concern, one of his hands already on her thigh and inching upwards. 

"Uh-huh," she said, sounding almost dazed as she reflexively opened her legs. "I want you so bad."

He rubbed at her thighs as his hand inched slowly towards her cunt and she whined impatiently. When he got to the apex of her thighs, he ran a finger up and down her clothed sex, his finger catching on her swollen clit making her gasp. Slipping a hand inside her underwear he continued running his fingers up and down her sex, feeling more and more slick collect on his fingers as she panted for him. He kept this up for some time, stimulating her but not giving her enough to cum.

"Please, please, please," she pled breathlessly.

"What is it, baby?" He asked in mock curiosity. "I'm making you feel good right?"

"More please," she begged, whining sweetly. "Please give me more."

"More where?" He asked again, circling her clit with his now drenched finger. He moved his fingers to her entrance. "Here? You want more here, baby?"

"Yes,  _ yes,  _ right there, please," she panted, her back arching at the sensation. 

"I think you gotta ask me nicely, baby doll," he smirked, running his fingers around her clit again and she whined. 

"Please, daddy?" She pled. "Please put your fingers in my pussy?  _ Please _ ?"

Who was he to deny her? He slipped two fingers into her sopping wet heat and he figured she must've been wet since he got here. He didn't even need to do anything besides be in the same room as her and she was dripping. Still such a good slut. But that could wait for now. 

He rubbed his fingers along her walls making come hither motions on every other pass and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds she was making.

"You better let me hear all those pretty little sounds if you wanna cum, baby girl," he whispered into her ear and she shivered. 

He pressed his thumb against her clit never ceasing the thrusting of his fingers and she gave the most sinful moan he'd ever heard her make. He rubbed quickly at her clit, her pussy dripping steadily into his fingers as he thrust them in and out of her channel, coaxing her to orgasm.

He mouthed and kissed at her neck as he fingered her, making her pussy quiver and he knew she was close. Christopher kept at his ministrations rubbing at a spot inside her that made her legs tremble and at her clit.

"Cum," he husked into her ear.

And as if in command, her back arched and her eyes rolled back as she gave a high stuttering moan. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, drenching them as she squirted rhythmically onto his hand, his fingers still thrusting as he prolonged her orgasm. He loved it when she squirted for him.

Her head rested against his chest as she caught her breath, his fingers still thrusting lazily in and out of her as he muttered praise into her ear, soft tired moans still leaving her mouth.

"You did so well, baby," he whispered. "So good for me. So good for daddy."

"Thank you, daddy," she mumbled.

"Do you want some juice, baby? You wanna go to bed?" He asked, hoping that she wouldn't say yes. He was painfully hard.

It seems like she was aware of this, a small hand resting over his crotch, rubbing and squeezing at his prominent erection, making him groan throatily. 

"Take me to bed, daddy," she said softly.

Not hesitating for a moment, he swept her up into his arms, looping her legs around his waist, and plopped her on her bed. 

"Strip," he ordered with a lascivious smile.

She slid the straps of her dress down, quickly discarding the garment and he saw that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples pebbling in the cool air of the room. Quickly discarding his clothes, he got onto the bed, kissing her deeply as he massaged one of her breasts, making her sigh into the kiss. 

He kissed her deeply, making her lay down on the bed as he looped her legs around his waist again. His cock throbbed at the sight of her under him, naked, and biting her lip in anticipation. He rubbed the head of his cock at her entrance and she raised her hips slightly, welcoming him.

"You want it?" He asked breathlessly.

"Please, daddy," she breathed running her hands up and down his biceps.

"Please what?" He husked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Fuck me, daddy," she begged.

In one smooth motion, he slid his cock into her tight and sopping wet heat, the feeling making him groan gutturally. He didn't thrust for a moment, savouring the feeling of her wet cunt on his cock after all this time. Slowly he began to thrust, watching her tits bounce and her face grew slack with pleasure. He knew how much she liked being filled. 

He fucked into her slowly, dragging it out for as long as he could, holding back the animalistic urge to fuck her hard and fast until she cried. He had to wait. 

Slowly but surely she started to give little whines. Raising her hips to meet his in an attempt to make him go faster but to no avail. He continued fucking her at the same painfully slow pace.

Ten minutes or ten years of him slowly and rhythmically moving inside her, against her, she didn't know. All she knew was that she wanted him to absolutely raw her.

"Oh, god, please," she moaned, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"What is it, baby girl?" Christopher asked, breathlessly still thrusting.

"Please," she said, eyes shining. "Harder."

"Harder?" He said in faux incredulity. "You want it rough, baby girl?" 

"I want it rough, daddy," she begged, embarrassment colouring her voice and making her cunt clench. 

"You don't want daddy to make love to you?" He asked in as much fake shock as he could muster.

"I want daddy to fuck me hard," she admitted haltingly, and he could feel her getting wetter. 

"You want daddy to use you like a slut? Hm? Is that it?" He asked still thrusting slowly and he saw her eyes start to water. "You want daddy to push you around and fuck you like the whore you are?"

"Yes, fuck, daddy," she gasped desperately.

Deftly flipping her onto her stomach, he pulled her up by the hips and shoved his cock into her roughly and making her moan brokenly. He began a punishing pace, fucking her fast and hard, the only sound her moans, the slap of flesh and the wet sounds her pussy was making.

"You hear that?" He snarled. "That's how much you like being called a whore."

"Spank me," she gasped and he smirked.

He rained down slap after slap on her ass making her cry out in ecstasy. He kept fucking her relentlessly, watching her cream on his cock while her wetness ran down her thighs. He was getting close.

"I'm so close, daddy," she whimpered.

"What do you need, baby girl?"

"Choke me."

Swearing, he leaned over her to wrap a hand around her throat, pulling her up slightly and making her back arch. The change in the angle made her give a stuttering moan as his dick hit her g-spot. 

"Fuck, daddy," she cried out before her pussy clamped around his cock and she came, her cunt gushing on his cock.

He picked up his pace, letting go of her throat. Her face smushed into the pillows as he gripped her hips in a bruising grip and chased his release. A few thrusts later and he slammed into her, filling her with his hot cum and she shivered, taking every last drop of it. He pulled out and watched it drip out of her.

They both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but before she passed out she said one more thing.

"Bedside drawer," she mumbled.

He blearily reached for the drawer and found only one thing inside. The plug.

She wordlessly opened her legs and his cock gave a valiant twitch. He slid the plug into her making her moan and arch her back. His girl, his girl,  _ his girl _ . He cupped her sex as he kissed her sleepily and he felt glad.

He felt triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Hope y'all liked that! This chapter was a struggle to write for some reason but here you go!  
> Comments are always appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christopher just can't help himself.

It was early, way earlier than she was usually awake and Christopher was still asleep in her bed. She’d woken up feeling warm and comfortable, his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Almost all at once, last night’s memories came flooding back to her, the plug nestled inside her making her stomach roil. She’d quickly showered and slipped out of the room, needing room to think. 

What then? Did this mean that she was taking back the man that abused her? He was different, no question about that but who’s to say it was a permanent change. Had she made a mistake? How could she be so rash, giving in to him so easily? 

She sighed and stared into the cup of tea she was nursing, her thoughts disjointed and confused. 

“Babe?” he said groggily, voice muffled. 

“Kitchen,” she called back tiredly. No time like the present.

He walked into the room, rubbing his face as he fully woke up. He came up behind her and wound his arms around her waist pressing a soft kiss to her neck. 

“Good mornin’, beautiful,” he mumbled. He noticed how tense the set of her shoulders was and he pulled back with a soft sigh. He moved to the other side of the kitchen table and leaned forward on his forearms. She couldn’t help but brace herself.

“Talk to me,” he said softly. She couldn’t even look at him. 

“Do you...regret what happened last night?” he asked, sounding hurt.

“No!” she blurted out, covering her face. “It was great, you were great, it’s just that...I keep thinking about, uh, about before.”

Christopher was quiet. 

“I thought I’d shown you that I’d changed?” he asked confused and hurt lacing his voice. 

“You have!” she said now confused herself. Why was she even upset. “You’ve been so amazing but it’s not, fuck, what am I saying?”

“It’s not me, it’s you?” he scoffed bitterly. 

“It is though!” she said, eyes welling with tears. “I’m  _ scared!  _ Alright?! I’m so fucking scared that you’ll hurt me again! Can you blame me?”

Christopher sighed. “No, I guess I can’t. But just...just think about last night? Wasn’t that great?”

“It, it was,” she said weakly. 

“And I didn’t do anything you didn’t want, right?” he pressed.

“Right,” she nodded feeling more unsettled than ever. He had hurt her but she’d asked him to. He started gentle but she’s the one that asked him to be rougher. 

“Then that’s it, right?” he asked pleadingly. “I-  _ I love you _ .”

“Christopher…” she breathed. 

“You, uh, you don’t have to say it back but I just want you to know. I’d never hurt you again,” he said eyes shining. She could see he was being genuine. 

“I think I love you too,” she said wetly. 

“So do you wanna give this, give us, another chance?” he asked nervously, chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Um, yeah, I do,” she admitted, deciding to throw caution to the wind. After all, she was just holding herself back at this point. Right?

Christopher moved to stand in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. 

“So you wanna be my girl again?” he asked quietly, staring into her eyes with a burning passion. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I do.”

“Yeah? You sure?” he asked seriously. “I can’t have half of you, I need to have all of you.”

“You have me. All of me,” she promised, laying a hand on his chest. 

He kissed her deeply and it felt like a promise. 

An unbreakable vow.

**

Christopher was on cloud fucking nine. He was getting money, he had his girl back, and he got to screw her brains out nearly every night. What more could he ask for?

She had been cautious at first but it was in her nature to submit to him, to be at his side. It had been surprisingly easy to occupy all her time and distance her from that pendejo, Ismael and he was in the middle of getting back into the groove of making sure she ate well and dressing up his girl nice and pretty. She didn’t even put up a fight. All he had to do was get her to move back in with him and then his work was done. He wondered if he could get her into slapping…

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he’d asked her one night on her couch. 

“Of course,” she’d responded immediately. 

“We, uh, we never talked about like kinks and stuff,” he started feigning awkwardness. : Is there anything that you wanna try or anything that you’d never do or…”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked off to the side. “Hm, I don’t think there’s anything I’m missing out on. You were my first after all so you kind of set my standards in a way.”

“Nothing? Really?” he asked curiously. 

“I like what you like,” she’d smiled innocently. “I like following your lead.”

Ignoring the growing tightness in his jeans, he pursued the line of questioning. “What if I wanted to, uh, slap you?”

She was quiet for a touch too long.

“I think,” she said quietly, drawing out the last syllable. “That I’ll have to say no to that if that’s alright.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “That’s fine. Totally fine.”

And that had been that. 

So he had to get...creative. But that would have to wait. 

A couple of months passed, much faster than they had any right to and he filled her days with nothing but him. He took her to places that she had never even heard of and he gifted her with the most precious memories, memories that were dazzling and memories that would hurt something fierce if she ever left him. He made a memory with her in damn near every inch of that city so that if she did leave him, she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without thinking of him. 

“I like you,” she’d sighed contentedly as they cuddled up in the car at a drive-thru cinema. “So much.”

“Just like?” he’d asked with a laugh. 

“It’s not ‘just’ anything,” she’d giggled. “I like you a whole lot.”

“Come on, baby,” he’d coaxed, peppering her face with kisses. “I’m gonna need more than like.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, letting him kiss her. “I love you.”

She said it so softly, so tenderly that he knew he didn’t deserve it one bit. But he needed her to need him. He needed her to be as obsessed with him as he was with her. But he would settle for her love. Pure and delicate as it was. He would settle for her heart instead of her soul. 

“Will you move in with me?” he asked softly, mirroring her tenderness, running a hand down her arm. 

She was quiet only for a moment before she said yes. No-fuss, no tears, no coaxing, or bargaining. Just a soft yes. 

So she did and he pretended not to see the uncertainty that would cloud her eyes and make her go quiet. 

So he initiated the next phase of his plan. The next thing that he knew would make her stay. 

If she disobeyed him and had too much sugar or drank too little water or came home too late, he would tie her up and edge her. Edge her till she was crying and mewling so prettily and the rope was biting into her skin and then he’d fuck her till he got himself off and then he left her there, till he could hear sobbing and then he’d let her down. He’d run his hands through her braids, rub the bruises on her wrists, and tell her that she was so good for him and that she just had to remember to be home on time, otherwise he would worry. 

_ I’m sorry, daddy. I’ll be good, daddy.  _

And he didn’t even need to slap her around. 

And then for good measure, he needed to make sure that she didn’t get it into her pretty little head that anyone else would take her after him.

She had been riding him, bouncing eagerly on his cock, his hands holding her hips in bruising grasp. Just the way he liked her. 

When she eventually got off and in turn got off of him, he’d flopped down with a slightly overdramatic groan.

“Whoo, you’re getting kinda heavy, baby girl,” he’d said nonchalantly, turning over to ‘fall asleep’.

He could feel her eyes staring a hole into his back. 

Later on, she’d been fixing a sandwich and he’d been on his way out of the apartment and he took the opportunity as it came. 

“I think a sandwich is the last thing you need, princess,” he’d laughed lightly. “Catch you later, love you.”

And so it went. Part of him felt bad about what he was doing, felt bad when her face fell, felt bad when he’d catch her avoiding mirrors and only agreeing to fuck with the lights off. But the way he saw it, it was a necessary evil.

“Christopher?” she’d asked him over dinner one night. She hadn’t eaten a bite. She was losing weight, he noted. He would probably ease up for a little bit.

“Yes, baby?” 

“Do you think I’m fat?” she’d asked. Her bottom lip trembled on the word fat, insecurity lacing her voice and tears lining her eyes. 

“Why’re you askin’ me that, princess?” he’d asked in faux confusion. 

She just shrugged and pushed the food on her plate around, avoiding his gaze. He tried to recall the last time she had eaten something substantial and he drew up blanks. Now that just wouldn’t do. He needed her vulnerable not half-starved. 

“I think,” he said with a lascivious smirk. “That you are the sexiest, most curvy woman I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s just a nice way of saying fat,” she’d pouted, sounding on the verge of tears. 

“No, no, baby,” he’d insisted. “You’re, um, what’s the word? Rubenesque? That’s what you said about that one painting. The Birth of Venus!”

She cracked a smile at that before full on bursting out in laughter. 

“Did you just compare me to a representation of the Roman goddess of love and sexuality?” she laughed incredulously. 

“I mean it’s accurate,” he laughed. “You do make me feel an almost divine level of both love and horniness.”

“Shut up,” she’d laughed, dissolving into giggles.

Crisis averted. 

He started again a little over two weeks later. 

He wouldn’t do it if it didn’t work. She became clingier and in need of more approval than ever. Not to mention how willing she was in the sack, how enthusiastic she was to take his cock at basically any time he wanted. So he kept doing it. 

All in all, things were going well. And he hadn’t had to beat the shit of her, even though he felt like it sometimes. She still talked back to him occasionally and she was still seeing Ismael. But he controlled himself.

It all went to shit the next time Beth stole from him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally said 'ohohoho you BASTARD' while writing this. Accurate or Nah?   
> This is a cautionary tale.   
> Comments and Kudos extend my lifespan


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**  
> Physical abuse

Christopher took it as a simple fact that he needed Beth alive but it didn’t piss him off any less. The problem was that Beth knew that he needed her alive. So it wasn’t wholly surprising that she’d be skimming some money off the top and praying that he wouldn’t notice. She was as cocky as she was stupid. Of course, he would notice. 

He’d need to ditch her pretty soon anyway. If his intel was correct, the FBI had caught onto their rather unique way of printing fake cash with nail polish and were on their way to recalling whatever booboo ass shade of nail polish let their cash pass the checks. 

Lessons had to be taught though. So because he had a sense of humour, he had Mick and the rest of his guys remove every single piece of furniture in Beth’s house. He even took the cutlery, the crockery and the linens. It made him feel minutely better but he could feel a headache building at his temples, the need to either punch or fuck someone foremost in his mind. 

He got back to his apartment, their apartment, and hoped that his girl would be on her best behaviour because he felt just about ready to lash out. Instead, he found the apartment empty. He checked his watch and it was definitely past her curfew. She usually had dinner on by that time but there wasn’t a single sign of her. He surveyed the kitchen and his eye caught a small post it on the kitchen island. 

_ Gone out for a bit with Ismael. I’ll pick up some groceries on the way home so I might be a little late. Love you xx. _

He was feeling his entire operation, his enterprise spiralling out of control right before his eyes and she was out fooling around with that pendejo? When he needed her? 

He paced around like a caged animal, frustrated and angry with no way to release the storm that brewed inside of him. He tried to reason with himself but all he could think about was the fact that she was out there with some other man. A man that had known her so intimately when he was the only one that should have had ever had her in that way. 

Suddenly his phone chimed. 

_ At the store. Be home in 15 xx. _

How could she act like she hadn’t done anything wrong? How could she-

You know what? He was going to get her. They could go get her car in the morning, it was Friday night. He didn’t care. He just needed her there, he needed to feel like he was in control.

Angry and somewhat petulant he found himself at Fine and Frugal after driving there in what felt like a daze. He weaved through aisle after aisle and he wondered if maybe she’d gone to Whole Foods instead. But then, in the same aisle where he’d spoken to her for the first time, he found her, holding a bottle of juice like the first time. 

But this time, she was giggling and smiling at someone else. At some other man.

***

She’d decided on a whim to grab some chicken and waffles with Ismael just because she damn well felt like getting some chicken and waffles with her best friend. 

It was nothing special. Just some chicken and waffles at their favourite hole in the wall. Afterwards, they grabbed milkshakes and swung by her favourite comic book store where he bought her a first edition issue of Superior Iron Man.

“Aw, you  _ do  _ care,” she’d jokingly pouted. 

“You know what? I think I’m gon’ return that,” he’d deadpanned, reaching for the comic.

“Nuh-uh, no take-backs,” she’d said, hiding the comic book behind her back with a cheeky smile. 

They’d walked around for a while just hanging out before they’d hugged and parted ways. She remembered that they needed to stock up on groceries, so she swung by Fine and Frugal. Again nothing out of the ordinary, just regular old Fine and Frugal, no robberies to take notice of. She’d leisurely strolled through the aisles, picking up some of Christopher’s favourite snacks. Just as a little surprise. 

She just needed juice but she found herself looking at the ice tea instead. It would be nice to switch things up once in a while. She'd been examining a bottle of grapefruit flavoured green tea and ice tea, wondering if Christopher would say it was too sugary when someone next to her spoke. 

"Hey there," the person said and she nearly dropped the bottle. "Whoops. Sorry."

She looked up at the stranger and found herself actually craning her neck to look at the very tall man in front of her. 

"Oh, hello there," she said, trying to be friendly.

"General Kenobi," he responded, pitching his voice down ever so slightly.

She literally just gaped at him. No one ever got her Star Wars references. Ever. Not even Ismael and he was a huge nerd.

"Star Wars?" the man asked awkwardly. "No?"

She unzipped her hoodie to show him the Star Wars t-shirt she was wearing. "Oh, trust me.  _ I know _ ."

"Oh, good," he laughed, flushing slightly. "I was worried you thought I was deranged or something."

The man was tall, with long dark hair, his pale skin littered with moles and beauty marks. His fox eyes were a light brown, so light they were almost amber, his features an odd mix of masculine and feminine with a prominent nose, offset by somewhat full lips. She almost wanted to ask if she could draw him some time.

"If loving Star Wars is wrong, I don't wanna be right," she said with mock solemnity. 

He laughed heartily, his cheeks colouring slightly. 

"I'm Adam," he said with a soft smile, extending a large hand.

She gave her own name, shaking his hand and almost feeling dizzy at how his hand dwarfed her own. 

"Uh, so I like Star Wars, you like Star Wars," he started awkwardly. 

"That's an accurate observation," she said smiling kindly.

"Could I, uh, get your number or something? We could grab coffee some time?" Adam asked shyly.

"I'm kind of involved with someone right now," she said, wincing.

"Oh! Oh, that's fine," Adam said looking flustered. "How about, uh, platonic coffee? I'm new to this city so…"

"Uh, yeah, okay," she smiled and she handed him her business card. "I tend to be a hermit so I could always use more friends."

"Maybe you're just fond of the dark side," he joked. "Since it's dark... inside?'

She couldn't help but burst out laughing at his awkwardness. Usually she was the one that had to navigate the minefields of social convention and she was usually the one looking like a socially stunted potato. 

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you," she said between giggles. 

"You could've fooled me," Adam said wryly.

"It's just that usually I'm the awkward one so I feel like I've found a kindred spirit," she smiled. "Here. Hand me your phone."

He handed it over and she put in her number with a healthy number of emojis before giving it back. 

" There. Text me and I'll treat you to coffee. As an apology for laughing at you," she smiled.

"I'm looking forward to it," Adam smiled, holding up her card excitedly before slipping it in his pocket. He seemed nice.

"Looking forward to what?" Someone said angrily and she knew exactly who it was.

"Christopher, babe," she breathed, smiling shakily. "We were just-"

"I don't give a fuck," he bit out, voice dangerously low. "Let's go."

"But," she sputtered. "Why are you so angry?

"I said," he bit out, grabbing her forearm in a bruising grip making her cry out. "Let's fucking go."

"Hey, man, you're hurting her," Adam piped up, sounding concerned and angry stepping towards them. "I think you need to calm down."

"I think you should shut the fuck up and mind your own business," Christopher growled, tightening his grip on her arm as she struggled.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she said, fear lacing her voice. "Chris, babe, let's just-"

"Shut up," Christopher barked and he led her away, pulling her along, her groceries forgotten in the cart.

She was dragged down the aisle, the last thing she saw a very concerned Adam, arm out as if to save her.

Did she need saving?

Christopher threw her bodily into the passenger seat before getting in and peeling off into the night, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

When they got home, the tension was practically palpable as they crossed the threshold into the apartment. Christopher got in just before her and he stopped in the living room, pacing back and forth with a frantic energy. His shoulders were tense and he ran a hand down his face as he sighed.

"Christopher, I-"

Her sentence was cut off by a sharp slap across the face, not enough to knock her to the ground but it did leave her feeling almost winded.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asked, hands on his hips. "I try to be gentle with you, I try to be nice, but clearly you need me to do this to you."

"I didn't do anythi-"

He struck her across the face again and this time she was knocked off balance stumbling before regaining her balance on a wall, tears streaming down her face

"Yes, yes you did," he spat. "You were out there with that fucking asshole and then I catch you making moon eyes at some rando… What were you doing, huh? On some kinda slutty world tour?"

"I didn't do anything!" She yelled, full on sobbing. 

"Don't you fucking raise your voice at me!" He roared back.

"I didn't do anything," she stressed, voice quiet. 

"You weren't here!" He shouted making her flinch. "I needed you here and you weren't. No. You were out being a whore. Having your hot girl summer."

"Don't call me that," she said quietly.

"Don't go see other men behind my back," he retorted with a sneer.

"Maybe I should," she yelled. "Maybe I should be with literally  _ anyone fucking else _ . They probably won't hit me and make me feel like shit about myself."

"You shut your whore mouth," he hissed.

"You're a monster," she whispered. "I should've never come back. I should've tried to make it work with Ismael. I should be with anyone except you."

"Shut up," he said quietly.

"Get fucked!" She yelled at him, turning to leave.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, holding both her arms in a bruising grip.

"Who do you think you are? Hm?" He said shaking her. "You think anyone would ever love you like me?"

"I don't care," she sneered, tears streaming steadily down her face. "I hate you."

"Take that back," he snarled, shaking her violently.

"No," she said slowly, teeth gritted in resolution.

Christopher's face suddenly went blank and then he suddenly let her go. Stunned she just stood in front of him.

And then he punched her. He punched her so hard that she fell to the hardwood floors, disoriented. He grabbed her by her braids and held her head up before punching her again. She curled up into a ball trying to make herself a smaller target and protect her head.

He seemed like a man possessed. A man completely blinded by a range that he rained down on her. He picked her up bodily and threw her across the floor. Kicking her and raining down blow after blow.

Through the haze of pain, she wondered how she could be so stupid.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of filler, kind of plot

It felt like he'd lain into her for hours, breaking her body and her heart in a haze of rage but really after kicking her in the ribs and punching her a few more times, he'd curled his body over hers and sobbed huge, heaving sobs.

"Why do you make me do this?" He'd sobbed, face buried in her aching side. "Why do you make me so crazy?"

She hadn't responded, feeling almost disconnected from her sore and bleeding body. She just lay there and tried not to recoil from the feeling of his hands on her. One of her eyes steadily began to swell shut.

He'd cried over her for what felt like hours again before gently picking her up and depositing her in their bed, tucking her in. It was a facsimile of tenderness. A farce. All she could do was stare at the ceiling, her body as limp as if she were dead. 

He crawled into bed beside her and wrapped his arms tightly around her, making her groan slightly whereupon he loosened his grip. He tucked his face into her neck and began to cry quietly again. He was mumbling softly and somewhat incoherently to himself and she strained as best as she could to hear what he was saying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Daddy's so sorry, he won't hurt you ever again," Christopher mumbled in an almost delirious mantra.

The insane thing is that a part of her almost believed him.

She let sleep take her, praying it had all been a nightmare.

**

She woke up the next morning feeling like she'd been hit by a bus but thankfully alone. 

She stretched slightly under the covers and tears stung at her eyes at the pain that lanced through her body. Tentatively sitting up, she groaned throatily. She poked at her ribs gently and they felt incredibly tender but not broken. Not that she would know what a broken rib felt like. She noted that she could only just see out of her swollen right eye. There was a note on the bedside.

_ We'll talk when I get home. I'm so sorry baby girl  _

She hurried as best as she could to the bathroom. In the floor length mirror she lifted her shirt and saw that her torso was littered with bruises, stark against her dark skin, his rings having left small cuts all over her. Her face was even worse. Her eyes was purple and swollen almost shut, her lips was split and swollen and her cheekbone had another purple bruise marring it. He did this. Christopher did this. 

She quickly showered and then with the first aid kit that she never thought she'd need to use for anything besides cooking mishaps, she cleaned up the wounds that she could, although her lip would probably need stitches. That could wait. She needed to get out of there. 

Quickly packing a bag with a few changed of clothes and toiletries, she changed into the loosest clothes she had and set out looking for her keys. 

They were gone. Her keys were gone.

Fine she'd catch an Uber. 

Her phone was gone too.

She fisted her hands in her braids in frustration, fighting back tears and the scream that was building in her throat. Calm down. Calm down. 

The neighbors! There was a kind looking petite woman that lived with her girlfriend, next door. She'd just ask to use her phone and then she'd go…

Go where? 

She couldn't go to Ismael. Christopher would know that's where she'd be and she didn't want to bring her mess to Ismael even after he told her to stay away from Christopher. 

Beth. She didn't want to but she had literally no other options. 

Breathing a sigh of relief when she found the front door unlocked, she quickly made her way to the neighbors front door, hands shaking as she lifted her fist to knock. She gave two short raps before waiting for an answer, wringing her hands nervously.

She didn't wait long, a few minutes later the door swung open, revealing the friendly smiling face of her neighbour, Dani. The smile didn't last long though when she took in the sight of her face.

"Oh my god," Dani gasped. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I- I'm from next door?" She said shakily. "Christopher's-"

"Yeah, I know," Dani gasped, pulling her into the apartment. "Did he do this to you?"

"I- he- yes, he did," she stuttered, eyes welling with tears from the stress. "I'm sorry for coming over like this, I just need to use your phone and I'll be out of your hair."

"Honey, don't apologize," Dani said, squeezing her shoulders. "Do you have somewhere safe you can go? You can stay here if you don't."

"Oh, I, uh don't want to impose. I have a friend who's willing to put me up," she said awkwardly, feeling on edge.

"Okay, if you're alright," Dani conceded. "Here's my cell. Is your friend gonna pick you up?"

"I was gonna take an Uber," she said, taking the phone. 

"Okay, nope, I'm driving you. Come on," Dani said grabbing her car keys and her hand.

"You really don't have to-"

"I want to," Dani said emphatically. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you in an Uber when you're already... vulnerable."

Before she could protest Dani had grabbed her hand and they were flying down the stairs to the car park. Gosh, Dani was a whirlwind but she could tell that she had a big heart. Once they were in the car, Dani gave her another once over, her fretting almost motherly. 

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Dani asked worriedly. "It's my day off, I don't mind taking you."

"No, I think I'm fine," she insisted, not wanting to take up any more of Dani's time. She gave Dani Beth's address and assured her that Beth would take her to the hospital if need be.

Dani's mini cooper weaved seamlessly through traffic and she was pretty sure that she was speeding but she had the sneaking suspicion that Dani always drove that way. Before long, they were pulling into Beth's driveway.

"Thank you so much, Dani," she said emphatically. "I can pay you for gas if-"

"Oh, hush," Dani said kindly. "You needed my help and my help is 100% free."

Dani scribbled her number onto a scrap of paper and pressed it into her trembling hands. She got out of the car and looked at Beth's house. It looked so foreign after all this time and strangely, empty.

"We're friends now, call me if you need anything or if you need me to cut off some balls," Dani said with a cheeky wink and then she was gone.

On legs that felt like jelly, she walked up to Beth's door and steeling herself, rung the doorbell. She absently hoped that Beth was home.

There was no answer after a few minutes and she wondered if she'd have to wait on Beth's porch until she got back. 

Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable sound of heels in wood floors and she felt relieved while her heart simultaneously dropped with nerves.

The door swung open and Beth looked confused before recognition dawned on her face and then concern.

"Hey, Bethie," she said, smiling awkwardly and then wincing when it hurt her face.

"Oh my god what the hell happened to you?" Beth exclaimed before pulling her into the house, her eyes darting around outside suspiciously. 

Once Beth was satisfied that the coast was clear, Beth took her into the living room and sat her down at what looked like a plastic garden table. 

"What happened to your furniture? Are you moving?" She asked incredulously.

"Never mind that, what happened to  _ you _ ?" Beth asked worriedly.

She sighed and lifted the hem of her shirt to show Beth the rest of the bruises that littered her body.

"He happened," she croaked. "Rio happened."

"I thought you left him," Beth breathed.

"I did,", she admitted. "But I went back. He said he'd changed. That he was going to therapy. He even acted different. Things were good for a while."

"What changed?" Beth asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "He was just so  _ angry _ . Angrier than I've ever seen him. I was at the grocery store and he showed up while I was talking to this guy I'd just met. We went home and he just...let loose."

Beth was quiet for a while, her face pale and mouth slightly agape.

"I didn't  _ do  _ anything," she said quietly, tears running down her face. "But he was so angry. Angry at everything but especially me."

"It's my fault," Beth whispered.

"What?" She asked in confusion.

"I, uh, I've been printing cash for him and then he'd clean it. I get a cut for printing the cash. The cut was too small so I...I stole more and chalked it up to printing costs," Beth admitted shamefaced. "That's why he was so angry. That's why he took my furniture. Because I stole."

She couldn't really blame Beth for getting involved with Ch- with Rio again. It seemed like they were both addicted to him in very different ways.

"It's not your fault, Beth," she sighed. "You didn't beat me within an inch of my fucking life. He did that all on his own."

"But-"

"No buts," she said, shaking her head with a small smile. "In fact, I should probably be thanking you."

"Why the heck would you do that?" Beth asked incredulously.

"If you hadn't made him so angry now, he would've just beat the shit out of me later. Probably over something a lot more inconsequential. But I got out early. Thanks to you," she smiled at Beth slightly.

"I'm still sorry that he did this to you," Beth said earnestly, voice soft and sincere.

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "Me too."

After more talking and even more fussing Beth dragged her to the hospital, insisting that she get herself checked out. Just as well, since it turned out that her ribs were cracked and her lip did need stitches. Armed with painkillers and firm instructions to apply a cold compress to her eye, they finally went back to Beth's house to regroup.

"We only have air mattresses at the moment," Beth sighed. "Hope that's okay."

"If I'd known that you were having your own drama with him, I wouldn't have shown up like this," she sighed.

"Hey, you're welcome any time," Beth reassured, hugging her gently, mindful of her ribs.

"I should've called, well I  _ would've _ but he took my phone so-"

"He took your phone?" Beth asked incredulously.

"And my car keys," she laughed bitterly.

"Why?!"

"So that I wouldn't be able to leave," she shrugged. "I'm surprised he didn't just break my legs while he was at it."

"How'd you get here? Please tell me you didn't hitchhike," Beth asked alarmed.

"My neighbor gave me a ride. Insisted after she got a look at this beautiful mug," she said wryly.

"Thank God for your neighbour,"Beth breathed, features crumpled with distress.

"Hey, do you mind if I use your phone?" She asked, realising that she needed to call Ismael.

Once she had Beth's phone she typed in Ismael's number, one of the few she had memorised and dialled. 

"Hello?" Ismael answered almost immediately.

"Hey, it's me," she said quietly. 

"Oh, my god!" He exclaimed. "I was at the office and some guy kept calling your desk phone and asking if you were okay. Adam something? He said your boyfriend dragged you out of the grocery store?? Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?"

"Ismael, breathe," she laughed lightly. "Can we, can we facetime? I think you'll understand if we do."

Instead of answering, Ismael called her on Facetime and she answered feeling instantly comforted by the coolness of his eyes and the warm tone of his skin. But the moment her face popped up on the screen his features were marred with worry and anger, no doubt at Ch- Rio.

"Oh, babe," he sighed in distress. "What did he  _ do _ to you?"

"I'm okay, I managed to get away,", she assured him. "I'm at another friends house just in case he showed up at your place. If he does...call the cops. He might try and hurt you."

"What, why?" Ismael asked in confusion.

"He probably thinks that you stole me," she admitted. "Just watch your back, okay? I'm serious."

"Okay," Ismael conceded. "I will." 

She quickly said goodbye and hung up after getting Adam's number from Ismael. She sent of a quick text to Adam letting him know that she was relatively okay but that they would have to take a raincheck on their coffee date.

Adam replied nearly immediately, saying that he was glad that she was okay and that he was sorry that he didn't do more. She assured him that it was okay and that she'd message him once she got a new phone since her new ex had taken her phone. His concern had been ratcheted to 110 but she assured him that she'd figure something out. 

She gave Beth back her phone and before she could even blink, she was being herded to the kitchen where some boxes of Chinese food had materialised while she'd been on the phone. They both are chatting idly about nothing of consequence before Beth handed her a glass of water and a pain pill. After she'd taken her pill, Beth herded her upstairs into the guest bedroom where an air mattress was ready and made up.

"Beth, I don't wanna put you out or anything-"

"Let me take care of you," Beth insisted. "This is half my fault anyway. Besides. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Beth," she said smiling softly.

So with Beth's help and a fair amount of swearing, she was tucked into bed, exhaustion and stress weighing down on her.

"Get some rest," she heard Beth say softly. 

Sleep claimed her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic might actually be over soon 😳 since I've been writing much longer chapters than usual  
> This chapter was typed on my phone so any typos are as a result of that


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plooot

She was gone.

_ No, no, no, no… _

Christopher knew that she'd be able to open the door from the inside,  _ obviously _ , but he took her car keys and phone. She shouldn't have had any way of leaving. How did she leave? Where did she go? He had her phone so he couldn't even track her. Had she hitchhiked or something?

He felt a pang of concern pierce through the red haze of anger and confusion he was feeling. There were men worse than himself out there. Any man like him would take one look at her and take her for himself. 

_ No… No! She's mine! _

Christopher paced the apartment turning over her options in her mind. Where could she go? What would he do if he were her? How would he leave? Where would he go if he were her?

She'd play to her strengths. Her softness, her vulnerability. He'd roughed her up pretty good so it wouldn't be hard for her to get help from someone. She wouldn't even need to go far…

The neighbors.

He went over to the neighbor's, Debbie or something. He knew she lived with her girlfriend, maybe they were hiding his girl with them. No, she wouldn't risk being so close to him. He tried not to think about how much that kind of hurt.

He knocked on the door, resisting the urge to pound against it till it broke. It didn't take long for Debbie or Deirdre or whoever the fuck to come to the door.

"Can I help you?" Donna(?) asked somewhat harshly, smile razor thin.

"Did my girlfriend come by here earlier, by any chance?" Christopher asked, putting on an 'aw shucks' air. "We had a little argument and she stormed off."

Dani (there it is) didn't seem to buy it one bit, levelling him with an unimpressed glare.

"Is that so?" Dani asked, bored almost. "No, I didn't see her."

"You sure?" Christopher asked, trying not to sound too desperate. 

"Positive," Dani deadpanned. "Bye."

"Wai-"

But the door was already being slammed in his face. She'd definitely come by here. And judging by the hatred coming off in waves off of Dani, she'd seen the damage he'd inflicted on his girl. 

He couldn't believe he lost control like that… He could've at least taken her to the hospital or gotten her a goddamn ice pay and try and work his magic, make her stay with him. 

Whatever. He just had to focus on finding her. 

So she'd gotten a ride from Dani and gone...where?

She didn't have many friends, not if he had anything to say about it. 

Ah. Of course.

Before Christopher could even think, he was at Ismael's door, finding his address on her phone. He chose to bang on the door this time.

"What the hell, man?!" Ismael yelled opening the front door. 

"Where is she?" Christopher demanded. "Tell her to come out. I wanna talk."

"She ain't here, man," Ismael sneered.

"Don't fuckin' lie to me," Christopher snarled, getting up into Ismael's face.

"You wanna come in and search?!" Ismael shouted, stepping aside. "Come on in!"

Christopher stared Ismael down but the other man's eyes glinted with immovable steel. He wasn't bluffing.

With a huff, Christopher stalked off back to his car, feeling so angry he thought he'd drown in it. He heard Ismael call out to him.

"You come here again, I'm calling the cops," Ismael spat. "Arrest your thug ass…"

"Get fucked," Christopher called over his shoulder.

He went home, the emptiness of the apartment almost increasing the din and turmoil in his head. 

He'd lost her good.

He knows what he did. He saw her curled up on their bed that morning, eye swollen shut and lip split.

Shame clawed its way up his throat.

He had her. Everything was great. But his monstrous nature wanted her close. So close that he could trap her in his ribcage, have her in place of his charred and deformed heart. She was his heart. He needed her. 

And he fucked it all up.

He wrecked the apartment. Breaking and shattering everything he could reach. What was the point of any of it with her?

***

She knew she was cutting it close by staying with Beth. It was simply a matter of time before he found her. After all, Beth was still his business partner.

Days passed, turning steadily into weeks and she couldn't believe that he hadn't found her. Just as well that Beth kept her away from windows. Her eye was still bruised but the swelling had gone down and the stitches in her lip were yet to dissolve.

She mostly stayed in bed at Beth's instruction, her ribs not yet healed. It left her with a lot of time to think. To try and come up with a plan. She thought about leaving. Leaving the country that is. But then she remembered that he had more than enough money to follow her until she was his again. 

She wouldn't be his. Not again.

"Hey, can you get up?" Beth asked from the doorway, taking her out of her reverie.

"Yeah," she grunted as she sat up. "What's up?"

"We're gonna go meet someone who was supposed to help us," Beth said cagily and she noted the stress on Beth's face. She'd ducked out one evening, all dressed up and she got back looking happier than she'd seen her. 

She knew that Dean had left fearing for his own life and those of his children. Rightly so. She knew that Beth wasn't taking it well and that Beth's solace came from taking care of her. She also knew that Beth would do just about anything to get Rio out of the way.

"Help us how?", She asked, mouth dry.

Beth fixed her with a worried stare, her brow furrowed bad face pale as her jaw worked. 

"I found someone to kill Rio," Beth admitted.

"A h-hitman?" She croaked.

"Yeah," Beth sighed.

She had so many questions. How did Beth find him? What if the cops found out? What if Christopher found out?

"You said was 'supposed' to help us. What happened?" She asked quietly.

"He didn't do the job," Beth said, sounding panicked. " _ Rio _ was  _ here _ ! He wanted to know what I was spending my money on."

Her heart dropped.

"He was here?" She whispered.

"I kept him outside so he doesn't know you're here but we're on thin ice. We need him  _ gone _ ," Beth said pleadingly.

She loved Rio, Christopher, once. Wholly and painfully loved him. Did she really have it in her to have him killed. She had the chance to kill him once and she failed. Would she be able to sit idly by while some stranger ended his life?

But then she felt the phantom pangs of fists hitting her body and she knew that in his anger he would kill her. 

"Okay, let's go," she said, resolve strengthening.

So that's how they found themselves tailing a surprisingly mild mannered man as he ran seemingly mundane errands. They watched him from afar, waiting for him to do as hitmen do and rain carnage upon some poor, unfortunate soul but it never came. Their reconnaissance came to an apparent end when they saw him hand off a cello case to a little girl. Just to think that they'd thought he had a rifle in there. 

They're bewilderment turned to panic when the unassuming man approached Beth's minivan. 

“I didn’t know your daughter went here,” Beth said shakily in a feeble attempt at nonchalance. “It’s got a great music program.”

“Mrs Boland,” he said politely, his thin lips stretched into a tight smile. A small pistol hung limply in his hand “Why are you following me?”

“Um,” Beth croaked. “Just curious...about the state of our lawsuit?”

She felt like her head was spinning. What lawsuit? Was that code for the hit?

“It’s not moving forward,” Mr Fitzpatrick said primly.

“I already paid for it,” Beth spat. “And you billed me for more.”

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Hitmen probably weren't cheap and Beth went ahead and paid to get the guy who beat her black and blue killed. She knew Beth would benefit from Rio being out of the picture but she felt guilty nonetheless. Like she was asking for too much.

“If you refer to article 3A in the contract you signed, I have the right to terminate due to breach,” he informed her placidly.

“How did I breach?” Beth asked incredulously.

“Failure to disclose the nature of your relationship with the target,” he said. 

“What does that mean?” Beth asked indignantly.

“You or one of your friends engaged in flagrante delicto with the target,” he said thin lips quirking slightly.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Excuse me?” 

“One of you boned him.”

“Why does it matter?” Beth asked in exasperation.

“I don’t do jilted lovers,” the man shrugged.

“No one, no one, was jilted,” Beth said emphatically, anger making her porcelain skin colour. “So this is where you draw your line?”

“Crimes of passion get messy,” the man retorted, sounding almost remorseful. 

"Please," she suddenly spoke. "Look at me. Look at what he did to me. Yes, I was with him but he's obsessive. He won't leave me alone until one of us is dead."

She was sobbing by the end of her tirade, the stress and fear of Rio bearing down on her all at once. The man's face crumpled slightly in sympathy.

Beth took her hand in hers and squeezed it comfortingly. Beth was now in momma bear mode and turned back to the hitman.

“Well, I’m not paying for all the incidentals and spray tans and-"

"I suppose that invoice could be revised,", the man said contemplatively.

“I have a question,” Beth asked, in full Karen mode. “What does omakase have to do with it? It was on the invoice.”

“Means entrusting yourself to the chef,” the hitman said. “Typically off-menu, locally-driven, sushi-grade-”

“I mean, how does it help with killing a man?” Beth asked quietly.

“Your friend's lover enjoys a two-hour omakase lunch every Friday, Never misses,” the man informed her. “After, he goes out into the parking lot and has a chat with the chef. That’s an opportunity. He then does business with people who would make my work...difficult. Not an opportunity.”

“On Tuesdays,” he continued. “He plays tennis at a very posh country club. You’ll see the charge for the valet in the invoice packet. He does shower after in an unattended locker room. That’s another opportunity and you see where I’m going with this. I didn’t go into all the details because then I would have to charge you for the time that it took to explain them.”

“So what now?” Beth asked in frustration, hands clenched on the steering wheel.

"I can't get involved,"the hitman said regretfully. "But I won't bill you any further. I truly wish you the best"

Bile rose in her throat.

**

"I'm so sorry, honey," Beth said quietly, Beth's arms wrapped around her on the blow up mattress.

She'd cried until she thought she'd cry blood and Beth held her through it all. She wasn't scared.

She was terrified.

But she'd eventually deflated against Beth, numb to the tumult of emotions warring inside herself. 

"You did what you could," she said, voice flat. "Thanks. Really."

Beth just squeezed her tighter. Beth was so warm but she felt so cold. Like she was already dead.

"What now?" Beth asked quietly. "I'm being watched. I don't want you to be a prisoner here."

There was only one option.

"I have to go. Far away."

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that! Sorry for the late update, got a bit of a tummy bug.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little filler low-key

Of course. 

Of course she was with Beth.

Christopher wasn't sure why that wasn't the first place he looked but it probably had something to do with how she never talked about Beth ever. As far as he knew, they weren't on speaking terms anymore.

She knew that he wouldn't expect her to go to Beth. 

He had begun to lose hope, thinking that she'd probably left the city and changed her name or something. He'd thought that he'd lost her for good. 

But then Mick called him saying that he'd seen his girl, skulking out of Beth's house to go meet up with some guy.

Well. It wasn't some guy. It was a hitman.

Christopher was aware that he was being followed but he'd never thought for one second that it was a hitman. That it was a hitman commissioned by his girl. He really fucked things up.

Whatever. He wasn't so easily deterred. She just needed to spend some time with him again, see how good things could be. Maybe a baby would make her love him again. Maybe a baby would make her stay.

Christopher knew logically that she wouldn't come willingly. But he just missed her so much. He was taut with barely contained aggression and sadness. Needing her to the point of madness. He wrecked the apartment until there was nothing else left to wreck, dosing himself with enough bourbon to pass out and wake up feeling even more enraged. He had taken to holding her hoodies that still smelled like her when he slept. He missed her so much he felt like he couldn't even see straight.

He missed her smile, he missed the way she took too long in the shower, he missed the way she hated bananas, he missed the way she'd snort when she laughed too hard, he missed the way she sighed as she slept. He missed how she sighed when he was inside her. He missed how she'd cry with overstimulation. He missed how she looked with his cock in her throat. 

Soon he'd jerked off with every pair of panties she'd left behind.

He  _ needed _ her. 

So he would take her.

**

The air was crisp outside the bus station.

She waited impatiently for the bus, the bench hard and uncomfortable under her. She didn't care though, she just wanted to put a few states between herself and the uncomfortable bench that she was presently on.

She checked her phone, courtesy of Beth and found texts from Beth, Ismael, and surprisingly enough, Adam. He seemed genuinely concerned about her and had been checking in on her from time to time. They had all vowed to check in every 20 minutes and their messages signalled the first of many high-strung check-ins. 

Their concern was justified. She had told them that if they didn't hear from her in 24 hours then Christopher had managed to take her. She gave them a list of properties she knew Christopher had, both in the city and suburbs and told them to make the police check every single one. 

That was the worst-case scenario but it was also a very real possibility.

So she was sitting on a bus stop bench, cold and uncomfortable, trying to get away. 

Still 15 more minutes. A bathroom break couldn’t hurt. Just 15 minutes and she would be gone.

It was so surreal. She had scrapped a life for herself together from practically nothing and she was about to leave it all behind. All because of one man. As she washed her hands at the bathroom sink, she took a long hard look in the mirror. The swelling in her eye had gone down completely but there was still a dark bruise around it that made her eyes look wider, more afraid. The stitches in her lip had dissolved but she knew it would scar. She had always scarred so easily, carrying her pain with her like tattoos. She left the bathroom.

She had barely stepped out when there was a rush of black beside her, a sharp pin prick of pain radiating in her neck. She slapped her hand to the affected area thinking something had stung her only to feel her legs start to give out from under her.

_ What? _

Before she could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her.

"I'm sorry, baby girl,"an all too familiar voice husked.

"Wha-what are you doooing?" She slurred, his arms tightening around her as her body turned to dead weight.

"I can't let you leave," he said firmly hoisting her into a bridal carry. "We're meant for each other, you'll see."

"Let me go," she whispered, eyelids turning to lead.

"I can't do that," he said, starting to walk.

"Plea... please…"

"Sleep, princess," Christopher said lowly, his voice turning to treacle in her ears.

Sleep…

And with a body suddenly uncooperative, a puppet with no strings, she remembered her phone on her hand.

And just before the unnatural sleep seized her, she dropped it.

A breadcrumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update but I came down with a stomach bug that had me out of commission for a while. I'm back now thooo! I missed y'all. I know this chapter is short but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for your patience


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the lion's den...

Christopher didn't even care if anyone saw him take her.

She was right there, so close to leaving him forever that he didn't even hesitate to plunge the syringe into her neck. 

When her legs buckled and her eyes rolled back, he felt fear and adrenaline rush through his blood, suddenly panicked that she'd overdose and that he'd need to take her to a hospital. He felt feverish, his breath coming in short pants.

Once he had her buckled in the passenger seat, the action difficult with her body limp and almost lifeless in his arms. He hated seeing her like that. Everything about her in that moment screaming death were it not for the strong and steady pulse of blood in her wrist and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. It was too close for comfort though. 

Imagine if that were his luck. If in his efforts to keep her with him always, in his effort to keep her in his clutches, he squeezed the life out of her. 

He drove as quickly as possible without breaking the speed limit, on the way to one of his properties just outside the city where no one could... disturb them. He figured it was a win-win since if she did escape, she couldn't take sanctuary and it would take hours to walk back into the city. He knew he was being reckless but she just needed to love him again and all this would be behind them. 

Once they arrived at the house, he tucked her gently into the bed, brushing her braids out of her face, her dark brown skin warm to the touch.

_ She's alive. She's here. _

Christopher put a bucket beside the bed, knowing that she'd probably puke when she woke up due to the drugs and he didn't want her to choke. He followed that with a glass of water on the nightstand, room temperature just like she liked it.

Christopher often looked back at the last time they came to the house. Christopher was a man in love with vocality and it was starting to annoy the neighbors in their building. He couldn't help himself, he just got so punch drunk on how she'd mewl and scream and sob. God, he loved it when she cried. 

But she didn't like knowing that they were being a nuisance, so he settled for the tears with soft, breathy moans. He liked it in a way. Like she only wanted him to hear her. Like it was just for him.

He still wanted to make her scream and sob and lose herself so he brought her to the house they were now at. He'd taken her on just about every available surface, even taking her against one of the pine trees that lined the property, where any passersby could see her take his cock.

She'd been passed out a few times on the bed like she was then, naked and sated. Her body covered in hickies and plug nestled between her still wet lips.

It was different now. She was fully dressed, her clothes ill-fitting and unlike anything she usually wore and he'd cuffed her leg to one the posts of the four-poster bed. He'd considered cuffing her hands as well but he worried about circulation.

That's the thing, he thought, sat in an armchair and watching her sleep. He still cared. He loved her. In his own way. He wasn't doing anything that wouldn't benefit the both of them in the long run. She just needed time to see how good things could be. 

So he got comfortable and waited for his sleeping beauty to awaken.

***

As awareness came back to her, the first she registered was the headache thundering in the centre of her head.

Her mouth tasted like the bottom of a bird cage and it was bone dry. She felt like she had lead in her limbs, each heavy and uncooperative. She tentatively stretched, feeling slowly coming back to her arms and legs but she found that she couldn't move one of her legs very far. She couldn't lift her head yet but she assumed it was cuffed to something.

Where was she? What happened? Had she gotten on the bus?

She blinked blearily at the ceiling and saw an all too familiar lighting fixture.

_ No _ …

Then she saw the familiar beddings she was nestled in.

_ No!  _

She shot up and her head spun at the sudden movement, her chest rising and falling rapidly in panic. Her eyes were locked with those of a wary Christopher. He regarded her like the ringleader of a circus approaching a spooked animal.

Before either of them could speak, bile was rising in her throat. In what seemed like a whirlwind, Christopher was at her side with a bucket that she promptly emptied the contents of her stomach into. Christopher rubbed her back comfortingly and with shaking arms she pushed him away. 

"I was just trying to help," he said, sounding hurt.

"You," she started voice hoarse. "You're the one that did this in the first place!"

"Because you left!" He yelled. "You left me!"

"Because you beat the shit out of me, Christopher," she spat. "You cracked my  _ ribs _ ."

"I'm so-"

"And then you fucking kidnapped me! Again! You drugged me, you psycho!" She yelled, resisting the urge to pitch the bucket at him. 

"What was I supposed to do? Hm?" Christopher asked tiredly. "What should I have done?"

She looked at him incredulously.

"You should have let me go," she said quietly.

His face was flat and expressionless, his eyes full of that same manic fire. 

"I can't do that," he said, voice quiet but firm. He moved towards her quickly and she attempted to scramble away, the cuff holding her stubbornly in place but he simply took the bucket.

"Can't or won't?" She asked warily.

He fixed her with the same blank stare.

"I won't," he said firmly, moving to leave the room. "You need to eat. I'll be back in a bit."

And just like that, he was gone and like old times, a pit burrowed deeper in her stomach.

_ I won't. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked that! Typed it just now in bed so I must now bid you adieu and say goodnight ✨ thank you to the lovely people that leave comments and kudos!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Non-con/dubcon elements

"If you're worried that I'll go to the police," she started slowly. "I swear to God I won't."

It had been a day. She'd refused to speak to him or even look at him, eating the meals he'd bring her in stony silence before curling up into a ball. Well, curling up as best as she could with her leg cuffed to the bedpost. He slept in the guest room if only to give her some time to adjust to her reality.

Christopher had just brought her a snack, knowing she needed something to combat the sinking feeling that she got in the late afternoon. Biltong and grapes. Not beef jerky but biltong. She couldn't stand American jerky so he had to fucking have it shipped in. He couldn't help but feel smug when she almost thanked him. Such a good girl. 

"I know you won't go to he cops, baby girl," he huffed in amusement. 

"Then let me go," she said pleadingly.

"I can't do that," he sighed, flopping into an armchair near her bedside. 

"Why not?" She sighed in exasperation. 

"Because I love you," Christopher said emphatically.

"You don't drug and kidnap the people that you love," she sneered.

"I do," he said quietly. "That's how much I love you, how crazy I am about you. You could have gone to fucking Outer Mongolia and I would've come for you."

"You can have anyone you want," she pled, eyes welling up with tears. "Just let me go. You'll find someone else. Someone just like me."

"There ain't nobody like you," he whispered fervently. "Nobody."

"Chris-"

"Nobody that kisses me like you, nobody that touches me like you, nobody that takes my cock like you," he said lowly, his eyes darkening.

"But-"

"Even if there was someone as perfect for me as you, I was your first," he shrugged.

"So?" She asked incredulously.

"I popped your cherry," he explained. "I'm the only one that gets to have you."

"Someone else did have me though," she said quietly.

Christopher couldn't help but tense at that, anger threatening to overwhelm him. 

"Did he fuck you like me?" Christopher challenged. "He ever make you squirt? You ever wear his plug to work? Hm?" 

She averted her gaze in shame, her hands clutching her bowl of grapes until her knuckles paled. 

"I thought so," Christopher said smugly.

"Please just let me go," she pled quietly. "What about what I want?"

"This is what you want," he said lowly, getting up to leave and order dinner. "You just don't know it yet."

He locked the door behind him, the sound of soft sobs following him.

***

"You know there aren't any other houses for miles, right?" Christopher asked.

She regarded him in confusion and contempt. Another day had passed and though she had no love for cops, she was disappointed to see that no SWAT team had descended on the house to rescue her.

"I know. No need to rub it in," she mumbled. 

"And you know I wouldn't do somethin' dumb like leave any phones around, right?" He asked, ignoring her pouting.

"I know, Christopher. What's your point?" She sighed.

"If I let you shower, you won't pull nothin', right?" Christopher asked, raising a warning eyebrow.

She had to admit that she felt musty. Days of grease and fear-induced sweating having built-up. Christopher knew that she liked to shower twice a day, showers being her calm and quiet space. He knew that not showering was probably weighing on her as heavily as the current situation. Perhaps it was a gesture of goodwill.

"I won't try anything," she said somewhat cagily.

"You swear?"

"There isn't anything I could do anyway," she sneered.

"You could try and attack me," he shrugged, his lips quirking in an amused slant. 

"What's funny?" She demanded.

"We both know how easily I can pin you down," he chuckled.

Can I just shower?"she snapped, irritation marring her usually soft features.

"Swear to me," Christopher smirked. "Swear you won't try anything."

"I swear," she said impatiently.

"I swear what?" Christopher asked, smirk widening.

She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. 

"I guess that means no shower for you," he shrugged, twirling the key to her room as he got up to leave.

"Wait!"

He turned around fixing her with an expectant stare. 

"I swear, daddy," she said through gritted teeth, her gaze baleful.

"You're gonna have to do a little better than that, princess," Christopher laughed.

She took a deep shuddering breath, her bottom lip quivering adorably.

"Please, daddy?"she asked sweetly. Well, to him it sounded sweet. Desperate was more accurate.

"Since my baby girl asked so nicely…"

The water felt heavenly, just this side of scalding and the pressure high enough for the shower to feel like a massage. She could almost forget that she was being held captive, her captor scrolling through his phone from his perch on the toilet seat. She had tried to hide her nakedness through the fogged up glass of the shower door but he'd simply snorted and she felt so stupid that she just pretended like he wasn't there. 

In the shower, it was quiet. She almost felt safe even though all he'd have to do is pull the door open to get at her. Speaking of the devil

The shower is where she did a lot of her thinking. And it was in the shower that she started to wonder what Christopher would do when days turned to weeks and then weeks to month. While a part of her would always care for him, she didn't have it in her to love him again let alone spread her legs for him. Christopher had a voracious sexual appetite and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if and when she turned him down.

He had touched her without her permission before…

He was drunk, a traitorous voice in her head said.

He was sobre enough to go fuck Beth to spite you, another voice supplied.

A knock on the glass startled her out of her tumultuous thoughts making her gasp.

"Alright, time's up, baby girl," Christopher said. "We're all about saving water in this house."

She wrapped herself up in a surprisingly fluffy towel. Well, it wasn't surprising. Christopher always had to have the best of everything. Expensive cognac, cashmere sweaters and iced out Rolexes were his vices. Even the bedsheets in her room were Egyptian cotton. 

She was surprised because of how he marched her back to her room, his gait relaxed behind her as she shuffled to the bedroom, the only barrier between herself and her captor, a microfiber towel. It felt like a warden marching his prisoner back to solitary confinement. 

She sat down on the bed and she noticed her favourite brand of Shea butter on the nightstand and all her favourite products. She glanced at them and then glanced at Christopher who smiled placidly from his armchair.

"Don't mind me," he smirked.

"Can I," she began, her voice cutting off slightly. "Can I please have some privacy?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen dozens of times, baby" he said innocently.

"I just, can I please have some privacy," she said in exasperation, rubbing her temples. "And some clothes.",

Christopher was quiet for a second and she wondered if he'd actually left the room. 

"No," he said, finality in his tone. 

"I won't sleep with you," she blurted out. 

"What?" 

"I won't have sex with you."

"And why's that?" He asked in mock curiosity.

"You beat me, you drugged me, you kidnapped me, you've invaded my privacy. Twice," she rushed out. "I won't sleep with you."

"Hm, if you say so," he laughed cruelly.

"You'll have to rape me," she said challengingly. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't."

Christopher stepped forward to stand in front of her, his hand cradling the side of her face making her flinch but he took her face roughly in his hand, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks.

"I could force myself on you," he started and her eyes welled up with tears, her body trembling. "Shit. You'd probably even like it, being the slut that you are."

"Please don't," she whimpered.

"Shut up," he sneered, his fingers digging into her bruised cheek. "Don't worry. I won't do anything to you."

She sobbed into his hand, her eyes downcast in powerlessness. Her hands clutched the soft towel around her body ever tighter, almost like the piece of cloth was a shield.

"I won't do anything to you that you won't like," he continued. "We both know how easily you get wet for me, don't we?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"she sobbed.

"You try and manipulate me, emotionally blackmail me and all you can say is that you're sorry," he scoffed. "Anyway I'll have you creaming on my cock soon enough."

She trembled in his grasp before he suddenly let go of her face. She closed her eyes, too afraid to even look at him. Suddenly she felt the had that so cruelly held her, trail down her neck making her break out in goosebumps. The hand trailed down her arm and her frame shook with a multitude of emotions; fear and mortifying arousal. 

The hand that trailed down her arm, suddenly ripped her towel away and trailed up her ribcage slowly. His fingers calloused and sure circled her nipple that soon pebbled and hardened in what was a Pavlovian response at the point. He massaged her breast and she bit her lips to hold in the gasp that threatened to leave her mouth. He took both her breast I'm his hands softly massaging them and teasing her nipples, pulling on them and twisting them so expertly that she feared she would cum from his touch alone. Tears streamed down her face in embarrassment and fear, her body so seized with terror that she didn't even have it in herself to struggle. 

One hand still tweaking her nipple and massaging her breast, he brought the other between her legs, his fingers running up and down her slit the way it had dozens of times before. She was sopping wet, her hips bucking into his touch.

Suddenly, he pulled away, the space he vacated suddenly cold. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to see the smug smirk that no doubt stretched across his face. 

"You want my cock?" He asked challengingly.

She shook her head haltingly, her body saying yes despite the crying no in her mind. 

"You creamed all over my fingers, you dirty little slut, I think you do," he mused. 

Her cunt throbbed at his words and she clasped her thighs together, shaking her head vehemently. 

"Alright," he said casually, and she heard him walk to the door. She didn't hear the door close and lock like it usually did but she did hear his retreating footsteps.

When she felt like he was gone, like a woman possessed, she lay back on the bed and rubbed frantically at her clit, her other hand massaging her breast. Her fingers dipped into her entrance trying to work at the spot inside herself and relieve the need that leaked out onto her thighs. She rubbed at her clit in desperate circles and soon her back was arching, her orgasm overtaking her. 

"Thanks for the show," Christopher said lowly and her relief was replaced with shame and confusion. Her eyes remained closed. Almost like she could pretend like it wasn't happening if she couldn't see it. Like her reality would change once it didn't have a conscious observer.

His cruel laughter echoed as he walked off. Naked and humiliated, she curled up and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for non-con touching

"I'm sorry," Christopher said that morning, his tall form looming over where she lay in bed. 

"What?" She asked edging away from him minutely.

"I'm sorry," he said, contrition written across his face. "About yesterday. I should be making this easy on you but it seems like I'm just making it worse."

"You can make it better though," she said quietly, pleading with him for the umpteenth time.

"I can't do that," he said hoarsely. "What you're askin' me to do...I just can't."

They both averted their eyes, her in frustration and him in what seemed like shame. Seemed. 

"You can go shower if you want," he said suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll bring you breakfast."

So she showered, immediately feeling less dirty and more clear-headed. She thought and thought and then thought some more. How could she get away? The highway past the property usually had a reasonable amount of traffic. If she could get to the road, maybe she could hitch a ride…

_ What if you just get picked up by another monster? The devil you know… _

She had to try. She couldn't stay here. 

When she got back to her room, blessedly without the watchful eye of Christopher, she found a pair of shorts and a large t-shirt on the bed. No underwear. She supposed it was a step in the right direction. Besides, she just needed to get away. She wasn't worried about clothes.

Once dressed, Chris entered the room with a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. Her favourite. She absently wondered how he was doing this much cooking. She always did the cooking so she just assumed that he didn't know how. It seemed like he was just full of surprises.

Without much ado, she ate her sandwich and downed her sufficiently sugary tea, realising how much her blood sugar had dropped after the previous day's excitements. She wished belatedly that she hadn't finished eating so quickly, if only to have something to do with her hands, a full mouth an excuse not to talk because Christopher looked like he was very much fixing to say something.

Just as she suspected, Christopher took the tray and set it aside, kneeling in front of where she sat on the side of the bed. Before she could even register what was happening he had taken her hands in his, his gaze earnest.

"I really am sorry, baby girl," he said emphatically. "I should have done what I did. It's just that...when you said that I'd have to... _force_ _myself on you_. Is that really how you see me?"

For a split second she felt guilty for insinuating what she had. Until she remembered that she was completely justified in her assumptions. He had touched her after she explicitly told him to stop before and she told him so.

"I was drunk," he said mournfully. "I'd never, you weren't even wet, I should've-"he stammered.

"Being wet isn't consent," she whispered, her gaze fixed on a point just above his head.

"You really didn't want me?" He asked, looking hurt. "Yesterday?"

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"No."

He froze for a second before he licked his lips, his eyes darting about as he tried to think of an excuse or argument.

"But you were tou-"

"Bodies will do what bodies do. Kay?" She said coldly.

"I don't believe you," he said firmly. "You want me. You just need to remember, baby. Remember how good I used to make you feel?"

He said the last part coaxingly, his every word dripping with honey and desire, serpentine in its seduction. She still didn't meet his gaze, staring stonily at the wall behind him when she felt one of his large calloused hand slipped under her shirt, trailing up her ribs to cup one of her breasts, his thumb circling her nipple again. She felt herself growing wet. 

"Don't you like that?" He asked breathily, his pupils dilated. "I could make you cum like this. Just like this."

She had always had this habit. A habit that annoyed people to no end. She would unplug lamps instead of just turning them off. She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe she had a particular roommate that rubbed off on her. She remembered that she had unplugged the lamp on the bedside table the night before, wanting to wallow in darkness. It wasn't very big but it was a heavy porcelain one, always cool to the touch. 

When Christopher's eyes became fixed on the growing damp patch on her shorts between her legs, his other hand squeezing her other breast, so possessed with desire that he didn't notice her hand clasp around the neck of the lamp. She didn't even register the fact that he probably could've made her cum like that. 

With one sure swing, she smacked Christopher across the skull with the lamp, a heavy thud seeming to reverberate through the room. 

He dropped slowly, like his body was still remembering that gravity existed and slowly succumbed to it's inevitability. His eyes rolled back and a grunt left his mouth. She was seized with worry for a split second before she remembered.

_ Run _ .

And she bolted. She ran out of the room, seemingly flying down the stairs as she took them two, even three at a time. She didn't stop to look for car keys. She hit him hard but not hard enough to knock out. He was disorientated at best but not unconscious. She wrenched open the front door that was blessedly unlocked and like an animal in the thick of a hunt she ran.

In her younger and more vulnerable years she had done cross country. Her legs were long and while she didn't have that lithe runner's build, she could go fast and moreover had the endurance to go far. She used to love the feeling of running. Morning PE sessions, no shoes on and the crisp morning air making her nose run. Each thud of her feet against the ground, synchronised with her heart. 

This was different.

Behind her, she heard Christopher shout her name, rage distorting the sound into a roar. She didn't look back, her breath coming in fast pants as she tried to outrun her pursuer. There was a thin treeline just up ahead, the road just beyond it, and she could hear a car approaching in the distance.

_ You're so close _ .

The footsteps behind her drew closer. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck.

_ You're so fucking clo _ se.

Pine needles crunched beneath her bare feet, the scent filling her heightened senses.

The car sounded close, her form just about to break free from the treeline…

A solid and heavy form crashed into her, both their bodies crashing into the bed of pine needles on the ground. She struggled fruitlessly under him, trying to buck him off and failing miserably. He pressed himself on her until she was flat against the ground, moving until he was straddling her, and bringing her arms behind her back to handcuff her. 

"No, no, no, please God, no," she sobbed quietly. 

She watched the car, her only hope drive by.

"Help me!" She yelled tearfully and maybe it was a trick of the light but she could have sworn that the driver turned and locked eyes with her through the trees. "Help me!"

"Shut up!" Christopher snarled into her ear. He hoisted her up roughly by her arms before frogmarching her back to the house, forcing her to turn away from possible freedom and back to her gilded cage. Back to him. 

The smell of pine needles nauseating her. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really churning these out lol. I estimate another four or five chapters and then I think we can safely say that it's time for me to retire these characters ☹️ I don't want it to end!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Non-con/Dubcon

She remembered being a nervous and sensitive child.

It didn't take much to get her to cry and it took even less to send her spiralling into a panic attack. It took her parents an embarrassingly long time to get her to a psychiatrist that diagnosed her with a panic disorder. She was a child of African immigrants though. They firmly believed that "anxiety"? Was for white people.

Probably why they forgot her at the supermarket one day. They probably didn't even consider that her brain would self-detonate.

She couldn't have been more than five or six years old. She remembered because there was a space in her gums that was still bleeding where her dad had yanked out one of her baby teeth. Her mouth tasted like pennies and her stomach roiled. 

She didn't really remember the exact circumstances. All she remembered was seeing the parking space where their minivan had been empty. She remembered being frozen to the spot, so small and afraid in a world that seemed ready to swallow her up. Her small frame had begun to tremble, her chest heaving as she hyperventilated and choked on sobs. Every single sense was overwhelmed with nothing but fear, fear, fear. The taste of blood in her mouth doing nothing besides tell her brain with growing insistence that she was dying.

A portly security guard with a kind face had noticed her and knelt in front of her, his brow furrowed in concern. He asked her if she was okay and when all she could do was pant and sob he had put his strong hands in her shoulders and helped her to steady her breathing. She eventually explained that her parents were gone and he helped her call them. Thankfully she knew her mom's number. Her parents did eventually come for her and yelled at her for wandering off.

She didn't speak to her parents outside of holidays.

But all that aside. In the moment when Christopher shoved her back into the house, slamming the door behind himself, she felt like that fearful child again. 

She turned around to face him, her eyes downcast and he didn't hesitate to slap her right across her face sending her flying to the floor, her mouth filling with the taste of blood like it did all those years ago. Salt and metal and fear.

"You," Christopher snarled, seemingly unable to speak past the rage clogging his throat. " _ You ungrateful little bitch _ !"

"What are you gonna do?" She asked challengingly, spitting blood onto the hardwood floors, rolling onto her back best as she could with her hands behind her back. "You gonna kill me? Hm?  _ Do it _ ."

He covered his face with his hands and his body shook, making her wonder if he was crying.

"No," Christopher said with preternatural calmness and she realised he was collecting himself.

"I don't  _ want you _ !" She screeched. "When are you gonna get that into your thick skull?" 

He knelt before her, his face blank before he reared back and slapped her again.

"You're gonna love me," he said quietly. "You're gonna love me even if I have to keep you here forever. You're gonna love me even if I have to  _ break you _ ."

She rolled slightly as sobs wracked her body, struggling fruitlessly against the handcuffs.

"It's time for your punishment," he said somberly, scooping her up in his arms. 

"You already have," she mumbled, her body limp in his arms.

He deposited her onto the couch and she absently wondered if she was leaving grass stains on the couch. She heard Christopher rummaging in the kitchen drawers before he stood before her once again with a pair of scissors.

"That wasn't no punishment," he said ominously. 

Christopher proceeded to cut her clothes off, leaving her naked and shivering in the cold of the room, humiliation descending on her when she realised she couldn't cover herself with her hands cuffed behind her back.

Christopher sat down beside her on the couch, breathing heavily, eyes on the ground. She wondered what he was doing before his hand shot out and grabbed her, prostrating her across his lap as she struggled, his strong arms holding her in place.

Wordlessly he brought his hand down on her bare ass hard, making her cry out and jerk in his grasp. He didn't even falter, his hand coming down again with a loud slap. He rained down blow after blow on her ass and thighs, never pausing to give the pain time to settle. He made sure to cover each square inch of skin with a spank, spanking some areas over and over until she was sobbing. Before long, she was limp in his grasp, her ass and thighs stinging bitterly. And then, all of a sudden, he stopped.

The room was quiet, the only sound her quiet, hiccuping sobs. Before, she could even catch her breath, he stuck his fingers between her legs, running them along her lips. She whimpered in mortification when heard wet squelching.

"This is it," he said almost reverently. "This is why you can't leave me."

"Please don't," she whimpered.

"You want me.  _ You want me,"  _ Christopher said hoarsely, his fingers entering her slowly, almost no resistance due to how wet she was.

"I don't," she protested. 

"Your body's saying something real different," he said quietly. "Your body can't lie. You can't fake how wet your cunt is for me right now."

Not waiting for her to respond, Christopher slid his fingers in and out of her wet channel, the sounds obscene in the silence of the room. Soon he had three fingers inside her and she bit her lip to stifle the groan that threatened to escape her at the stretch if his fingers. She cursed her traitorous body and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of anything but his thick fingers rubbing against her g-spot.

The pace of his fingers picked up and her toes curled but she refused to voice her pleasure. She refused to feed into his sick fantasies and delusions. She hated him in that moment. Almost as she hated her own body for responding to the touch of a madman.

She knew she was probably leaking uncontrollably onto his hands and she knew that she was going to cum soon, her wetness and the building tension in her core telling her that she was going to squirt. 

Now pounding into her with his fingers, practically fucking her with them, the tension between her legs broke and she came all over his hand, squirting uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face, shame making her bury her face in the sofa cushions. 

His fingers worked her through her orgasm until she stopped trembling in his grasp. She felt his erection pressing into her abdomen and she cringed at the way her core pulsed around his fingers. 

Exhausted and shamefaced, she passed out. 

***

A few more days passed and he kept her naked and she tried one more escape attempt, clothed or not. It of coffee hadn't worked, driven more by desperation than any real plan but she had to try. 

He'd tied her to the bed and eaten her out till she cried when he brought her back. 

She honestly wished he'd hurt her instead. A punch made sense. A slap made sense. But to torture her and use her own body as a tool...it was despicable.

So she decided to play along.

She woke up feeling more clear-headed than she had in days, Christopher naked against her again. Gritting her teeth, she ground her ass against his cock making him groan in his sleep. He stirred but didn't wake. So she tried again, trying hold in the way her skin crawled. Tried to hold in the way her skin crawled at how she already started to grow wet in response.

"What are you doing, baby girl?" He asked groggily.

"I want your cock," she said with more confidence than she felt.

He froze at that, turning her to face him. He seemed dubious but she knew that he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"What?" He asked lowly.

"I want your cock," she repeated, her hand grasping his shaft and stroking deftly, making him close his eyes and swear.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned. "You want this dick?"

"Yes, daddy," she said demurely. Just the way he liked it. 

Without much preamble he was on her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He nudged at her clit with the head of his dick and she gasped. She was already wet. She always was when he was near and she swallowed her disgust at the fact.

"So wet," he breathed. "Always so wet for me."

"Fuck me, daddy,"she breathed.

He wasted no time in pushing his cock slowly into her wet heat, a guttural groan escaping him as she enveloped him. 

"God, I missed your cunt," he groaned, starting to thrust slowly and she let out a punched out breath with each thrust. 

His pace picked up quickly and soon he was fucking her with hard and purposeful thrusts, chasing his release inside her. Days of pent up frustration reverberated through the room with each slick slap of flesh. He left open mouthed kisses along her neck, on me of his hands thumbing at her nipple as he buried himself inside her.

She couldn't deny the way her pussy seemed to suck him in deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside her that it always would, the stretch making her toes curl. Soon she was cumming, her lips clasped together out if habit and he followed soon after pumping her full of what felt like a torrent of hot cum, rivulets of it dripping out onto her thighs. 

He was surprisingly still hard inside her and he kept fucking her, possessed with lust and insatiable. 

It felt good. It felt so good.

But it was so wrong. Her pussy wanted more and more and more but with every thrust her stomach roiled dangerously in disgust. Disgust with him, disgust with herself. 

Soon he had dumped two more loads inside her and it made her cunt hungry for more. She had always loved it when he would cum inside her, seemingly fuelling her arousal. She wondered if he had broken her just as he had promise. Turned her into a walking sex doll. 

She thought he'd never stop, never tire. However, it seemed like he was exhausted so he plugged her up and went to sleep, content that the battle was won. She waited until his breathing had evened out and she was sure he was asleep. She considered holding a pillow over his face until he stopped struggling but she knew she wasn't strong enough. 

So tiptoeing out of bed carefully, she walked over to his side of the bed and rummaged through his pants before she came across what she was looking for. His phone.

She stood over him, watching for the faintest hint of awakening and she turned his phone on. Password protected. Shit. 

It was four numbers when he wasn't using his fingerprint. Four numbers…It could be anything. It could be a date, it could be lottery numbers, it could be completely random. Desperate, she typed in her birthday.

Unlocked.

She looked over at Christopher and found that he was still sound asleep. 

Quickly going to the messaging app she sent off a quick text.

_ Help me _ . 

And a location.

She saw Christopher stir and his eyes twitch. She deleted the conversation, telling the recipient not to reply and just to send help.

Christopher huffed as he woke up probably sensing her standing over him and she quickly slipped the phone back into his pants before he opened his eyes. 

"Baby?" He asked sleepily. "What are you doin'?"

"I want you," she said breathily, hoping she sounded more aroused than panicked. 

He seemed to process what she said before he sat up slightly.

"Really?" He asked haltingly.

Putting a hand between her legs to rub her clit for good measure she nodded eagerly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into bed, making her straddle him before he flipped them, spreading her legs.

"See? You're fucking  _ insatiable _ , you little slut," he breathed.

As he bore into her for the umpteenth time, she screwed her eyes shut, in pleasure and in prayer. She prayed for help to come quickly and she prayed a prayer of thanks that she had always remembered important numbers.

_ C'mon, Beth.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that want more Rio/OFC I think I'll need prompts lol. You can catch me on tumblr @ crappedoutlungs if you wanna send me a prompt
> 
> Let me know what you think of this mess of a fic.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a long chapter

Christopher honestly couldn't believe it.

It was like a switch had been flipped. She went from withdrawn and combative to submissive and insatiable in a single night. He couldn't explain it. 

Maybe he'd finally broken her. Essentially hit the factory reset and turned her back into the perfect girl. His girl. 

So he gave her back some clothes, allowing her to graduate from whore back to baby girl. He made her breakfast in bed, allowed her to shower, and even let her watch some Netflix. Shit. He even gave her underwear. 

Christopher was of course still on his guard but realistically she had no way of attacking him again or leaving. He kept the doors locked and took away anything sharp or heavy after she'd nearly concussed him.

Maybe that was it. Maybe she'd finally clocked onto the fact that she wasn't going anywhere. 

It's not like it was a bad life anyway. He had plenty of money to give her anything she needed and he was more than willing to take care of her in the bedroom. She had settled down somewhat, no longer cagey and restless but he couldn't help but notice how wistfully she would look out the window.

Maybe...she was just bored. 

She was always working, always needing to do something with her hands. He couldn't get her laptop. Not yet. But maybe he could get her a sketch pad, some pencils maybe. Something to fill the days with. 

Maybe they could finally have a baby.

He knew that she was gonna have to get another birth control shot soon. Well she didn't  _ have _ to. 

She said she didn't want kids. Not yet anyway. But maybe that's what she needed. She probably did want kids but she just didn't know yet. She said that she didn't want him at first but here she was begging for his cock in the middle of the night. Begging for his cum. 

If she didn't bring up birth control then neither would he.

**

She kept staring out the window and hoping it wouldn't make him suspicious. Her thoughts would swirl like wind in the leaves, fear and paranoia seeping into each of them. What if the text hadn't gone through? What if they weren't coming for her? What if he found out what she did and killed her?

What if she got pregnant?

She wasn't stupid. She knew when she gave in to him that she was toying with the possibility of getting knocked up. It had been three weeks since he'd taken her. Four weeks since her last birth control shot. 

His cum was still plugged inside her and she tried to ignore the insistent pressure between her legs. 

She knew she was playing with fire.

But call her foolish, she was still holding out hope. She was constantly thinking of ways to get away from him but she knew they were flimsy plans. Even if she did get away he'd just keep bringing her back. Again and again and again…

The day passed uneventfully. Sleep, eat, fuck. That's all she did. She was just a hole to him. He didn't even bother to speak to her anymore or act interested in what she had to say. He was only interested in her mouth when it had his cock in it.

That was another thing. She was so angry...all the time. 

She'd wake up in the small faint hours of the morning and just stare at him. She thought about all the ways she could kill him. All the ways she could finally be free. But she didn't want blood on her hands. 

So her anger simmered.

Anger. Hope. Fear. Repeat.

Days passed until suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

She perked up in surprise, hoping she could signal to whoever it was that she was in danger. 

But Christopher seemed to think she looked too excited about the visitor. Moving quickly across the living room, he clasped a hand over her mouth and dragged her down some stairs and into the basement. Working quickly and methodically, she was tied up and gagged, muffled cries leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," he said lightly not sounding sorry at all. "Wouldn't want you getting any ideas."

And then she was alone.

The basement had some furnishing but was sparse for the most part. Christopher had left her sitting against the wall next to the stairs so that if anyone peaked down the stairs they wouldn't see her. She looked out of the window opposite her and thought about how she could crawl out if only she could get loose. Her bonds were too tight. She let her head fall back against the wall with a thud. Above her, she could hear snippets of conversation.

"...can I do for you officer?"

_ Police _ .

"...a young woman?"

She gave a few muffled cries, fidgeting helplessly, wishing she could telepathically tell the officer that yes, I am down here and I need  _ help _ .

"Nah, officer. It's just me," Christopher drawled charmingly.

"Mind if we check the premises?" The officer asked.

_ Please, please, please _ .

"You can have a look around outside but you're gonna need a warrant for the house," Christopher said, an edge to his voice.

_ This was it. He was gonna move her and she'd never be free. _

"You got something to hide, son?" The officer asked suspiciously.

She didn't catch the rest of the conversation, hearing footsteps in the grass by the window. Her eyes widened in hope.

"I'm not hiding…"

A pair of leather shoes and navy blue slacks came into view at the window, pausing as the officer probably looked around. She cried out from behind the gag, her cries turning to desperate sobs as she struggled.

Suddenly, the feet turned to face her and she screamed against the gag as best as she could, vocal cords straining as she vied to be heard. The officer squatted and she was face to face with a rather portly African American police officer, his eyes widening in shock and horror as they met her own. She fidgeted desperately, almost trying to move towards him, screaming against her gag, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh my god!" The officer cried out. "He's got a girl tied up in his basement!"

_ Yes!  _

The man straightened and ran round to the front of the house and she sobbed in relief, doubt still playing in her mind that Christopher would find a way to escape with her still in his clutches.

She hears the door crash upstairs, feet thundering through the living room before two shots fired. There was silence and then she heard something hit the floor with a thud. 

_ Please, God _ .

Suddenly there was silence and then blessedly, the crackle of a radio softly crooning.

"I need paramedics and backup," a string voice prattled off, giving the address to the dispatcher.

A pair of feet descended the stairs and she found herself looking tearfully up at the face of the African American officer, awe and disbelief colouring her features. So overwhelmed as though she'd seen the face of God. She realised that she was crying, her body overcome with involuntary trembling.

"I'm gonna cut you loose, okay?" The officer said approaching her with his hands raised and expression open, mistaking her trembling for fear.

It wasn't fear. It was  _ relief _ .

She nodded eagerly, her eyes following his every move, wanting to reach out and make sure he was real.

He cut her free quickly with a Swiss army knife and she found herself looking down at her own hands in a daze. 

"Can you stand?" The officer asked.

She could but her trembling meant he had to help her up the stairs from the basement. When they got up to the living room she saw a small pool of blood on the hardwood floors. An inexplicable spike of fear shit through her until they got outside and saw Christopher handcuffed and sitting on the porch, a graze marring his bicep. He caught sight of her and his body jerked forward as though to grab her and she flinched, bile rising in her throat. The sound of sirens carried over the cool air, the world flashing blue and red as the first responders got close.

The officer placed a hand on her back to usher her past him but she stopped, wanting to say something to him.

"I don't want you," she said quietly, meaning every word. "I never did."

And then in a flurry of lights and blankets and chatter, she was whisked off to the hospital, each bruise and cut catalogued, her statement taken several times, each retelling like a new cut. She finally threw up when they removed the plug that she had still been wearing and took samples of Christopher's semen. 

Eventually she was clean and in a cushy but sterile room, staring at the ceiling. Christopher had really lain into her after her second escape attempt and had managed to crack her ribs again so they decided to make her stay overnight. Every breath hurt bringing memories of his tongue had slithered between her legs after he beat her. She wanted to be sick again.

She was free.  _ Free _ .

She wasn't dead. She wasn't pregnant, thank God. They'd given her a morning after pill just in case and her birth control shot too. It felt like a ritual. A ritual that said that yes, this is my body. This is my body and you may not have it.

A ritual that said that she was free.

Why did she feel so horrible then?

She hated the smell of disinfectant and the cold, impersonal halls of the hospital. She hated the way the nursing staff regarded her with barely concealed pity. Like she was  _ broken _ . She hated how alone she was.

It all happened so quickly. One moment she was under Christopher's thumb, the next she was in the hospital giving her statement to God knows how many police officers. She didn't know where Christopher was or if they could even charge him or if she'd need to appear in court. 

She hated how the nurses looked at her like she was broken because she  _ felt _ broken. She felt like her pain was on display for everyone to see, vulnerable like an exposed nerve. She felt unstuck. Like someone had broken her into pieces and out her back together wrong. She was so confused and still so fucking  _ scared.  _

She realised belatedly that she was crying and hyperventilating, her mind swirling like I did all those years ago, feeling like she was drowning in her own panic. She absently registered her heart monitor going crazy and soon there was a nurse rushing into the room. She ignored the pity on the nurse's face, thankful that she wasn't alone anymore.

"Okay, sweetie, I need you to take a really deep breath," the elderly nurse said, her blue eyes twinkling kindly. She did her best to obey, taking a deep breath.

"Now hold it for 5, 4, 3,2,1… okay now exhale really slowly," the nurse instructed softly, holding her hand firmly.

They went through the rigamarole a few times and she found herself somewhat calmed down if somewhat shaky, her face streaked with tears.

"You feeling better, Hun?" The nurse asked, her tag reading, Carla.

"Ye- Yes, thank you," she croaked, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm so-"

"You don't need to apologize, sweetie," Nurse Carla said with a soft smile. "Just press that button if you need me and I'll be right there."

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Anytime, honeybun," Carla smiled. "Before I go, is there anyone we can call for you? You don't have an emergency contact listed."

She had a few people in mind. 

***

About an hour or so later, a little late into the night, Beth burst into the room in a flurry of worry and bags. She almost laughed at how flustered Beth looked, her hair a bird's nest and face flushed red. 

"Oh, my god, oh my god," Beth gasped, dropping her things onto the couch in the room and sweeping her into a vibe crushing hug. The breath was knocked out of her and her ribs hurt but she just needed to hold someone. She needed to hold someone that wouldn't hurt her. She breathed in this sweet smell of Beth's perfume and whatever baked good she'd cooked up for the PTS and she felt  _ safe _ .

" _ Beth _ ," she croaked, tears filling her eyes as she sobbed into Beth's chest.

"You're okay," Beth's said firmly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "You're okay."

She wasn't sure if Beth was trying to reassure her or herself but it helped. It helped to chase away the loosely glued together feeling that seemed to dominate her waking hours.

They held each other for what might've been a few minutes or a few hours before Beth pulled away to give her an appraising look. She could tell that Beth was trying to put on a brave face but her face crumpled when she saw the bruises on her face and the way she gingerly held herself.

"Are you okay?"Beth asked quietly.

"I mean, I probably won't be after I see my hospital bills," she joked lamely.

"Come on," Beth chided softly.

She looked at Beth, eyes stinging, chewing in her bottom lip. She tried to open her mouth to say something, anything but all that came out was a quiet sob. She shook her head forlornly.

"He, he did, he did horrible things to me," she hissed tearfully.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," Beth assured her, taking her hand.

She just nodded, grounding herself in Beth's touch.

They sat in silence for a bit before Beth pulled out a frightening number of Tupperware and thermoses. 

"It's mostly snacks but I brought you some proper food too," Beth informed her.

"You know they're letting me out tomorrow right?" She laughed.

"Your point is…?" Beth smirked.

She munched on the horde of food while Beth filled her in on what had been going on. 

"Mick took over when, um, when he took you," Beth informed her. "Turns out working for someone as unstable as Rio isn't fun."

"Yeah…" she said noncommittally.

"So he gave me my furniture back!" Beth said cheerily, trying to steer the conversation away from he-who-shalt-not-be-named. 

"You gonna keep at it with  _ book club _ ?" She asked, levelling Beth with a meaningful look.

"Uh, no," Beth smiled sheepishly. "I almost lost a lot because of book club so... I'm sticking with the Paper Porcupine. I actually like it there."

"I'm glad," she smiled. "Really."

They lapsed into comfortable silence but she just had to ask, a question nudging at the back of her mind.

"Did you get my text?" She blurted.

Beth looked up startled before she understood.

"The moment you stopped texting me every 20 minutes, I went to the cops," Beth said with a sigh. "I gave them your picture and the list of houses you put together but they said that not enough time had passed."

"They thought maybe you went willingly since I told them he was your ex," Beth continued, irritation colouring her features. "But they traced your phone to the bus station and they found a syringe and your phone. CCTV showed he'd drugged and kidnapped you."

"And then what happened?", She breathed. So long had passed while she was with him…

"And then nothing," Beth scoffed bitterly. "They said they had officers on the case but they wouldn't give me any info because I'm not your mom."

"You're as good as," she said, giving Beth a tired smile.

"I know," Beth smiled cheekily. "Anywho. I tried to look for you myself but I didn't know a man could have so many houses. I was halfway down the list when I got your text. Good on you for getting his phone."

She felt her mind slip into darkness when she remembered what she had to do to send that text. Her stomach rolled threateningly, the snacks Beth had brought threatening to make a reappearance.

"Whatever you did," Beth said firmly. "You had to do. No one can hold that against you and neither should you.",

She nodded half heartedly, not quite believing Beth but desperately wanting to.

"So I showed the police the text and they said they'd send a squad car," Beth sighed. "Not a SWAT team. A single fucking squad car."

"I can't say I'm shocked," she sighed. 1312 and all that.

"I was so afraid that they'd shoot you in all the confusion instead of bringing you back. Instead of bringing you back to me,"Beth said waterily.

"I'm okay," she told Beth with a smile, echoing Beth's earlier words.

"Anyway,", Beth said, sniffing. "Nobody called me to say you're okay since I'm not listed as your next of kin."

"I should really get around to that," she said wryly, making Beth chuckle.

"You really should," Beth laughed. "But yeah, next thing I know, the hospital called me and now here we are."

"Thank you, Beth,"she said squeezing Beth's hand.

"I didn't do anything,"Beth said dismissively.

"If you hadn't gone full Karen, I'd still be with, with him," she stammered. "What's more,  _ you looked for me yourself _ ."

"I had help," Beth smiled. "Your friend? Ismael? And some tall dude? Dark hair?"

"What?" She breathed.

"Yeah. Annie and Ruby were going crazy worrying too," Beth nodded. "We would've probably found you ourselves if we didn't have to work and take care of the kids-"

"You don't need to explain, Bethie," she said in the verge of tears. "You did everything you could and that's all I can ask for."

Beth smiled softly, squeezing her hand again as if she was making sure that her friend was actually there. It was surety. It was comfort.

"Did you put my face on milk cartons?" She joked.

Beth smacked her thigh with a warning smile. 

She would piece herself back together. That she promised.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to the end soon! I know things happen quite quickly in this chapter but I had to cut some stuff out so that it wouldn't be too long 😬  
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also I typed this chapter on my phone so all typos are mine and I'm sowi 🥺


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

The trial was short, almost laughably so. They had footage of Christopher drugging and kidnapping her and DNA evidence that he had had sex with her. As a captive she was in no position to consent as she was under duress. So just like that he was sentenced to 20 years in prison. 

She remembered sitting on the stand and testifying. Her palms had been sweaty, her body trembling. It seemed to be a nervous tic, to break out in uncontrollable tremors. She was medicated for her brand spanking new panic disorder but she was still prone to bouts of terror. Especially at that moment, Christopher in orange and handcuffed, staring at her unnervingly, his lawyer stone-faced next to him.

She had actually met Christopher's lawyer once. Christopher had dragged her to the country club where he liked to play tennis, trying to adjust her to his life of luxury and excess. She wasn't the sporty type so she sat at a table with a cold drink and watched him play with a woman that she came to know as Lauren, his lawyer. Lauren the Lawyer. Lauren practically oozed money, from her expertly done highlights, to her expensive tennis bracelet. Lauren scanned her disapprovingly and she couldn't blame her. Her fashion sense wasn't country club so much as it was boho art studio. Aside from that, Lauren was nice enough and one conversation with her was enough to make one thing very clear; she was very good at her job. Every sentence that left Lauren's mouth was like a parry, her with sharp. 

Lauren was alright. 

But she could see that Lauren was about to lose her first case. After all, Christopher hadn't given her much to work with. She couldn't understand it, how reckless Christopher had been. He'd taken her in broad daylight with CCTV. The nail in the coffin is that the cops found her literally tied up in his basement. 

Perhaps it was hubris. It was more likely a deadly cocktail of madness and desperation. He had to have her and he didn't care what he had to do to get her.

So in a cold sweat she sat on the stand and told a horrified courtroom every single thing he did to her. Every beating, every...rape. She shakily told them everything. Lauren looked like she'd be sick, Christopher continued to stare at her blank-faced. Even when she sat down beside Beth, he turned to continue staring at her.

The prosecution presented the rest of the evidence and Lauren was eventually called to parry their accusations. Lauren stood slowly and shamefaced she declared that she had nothing to add. Why did Christopher even let this go to trial? 

When the gavel sounded and Christopher was led away, she felt like a weight was lifted off her chest.

**

The next logical step was to try and move in, rebuild. 

It was more difficult than she thought it would be. She couldn't even think about going to Christopher's apartment to get her stuff without descending into a panic attack. Eventually Dani picked the lock and brought her stuff for her but she still felt embarrassed, like she was being childish.

She couldn't shop at Fine and Frugal anymore, Christopher's ghost seemingly lurking around every corner and haunting every aisle. She didn't mind too much, Whole Foods was just fine. Adam even started going with her.

Adam. Sweet, patient, Adam. He was as constant a presence as Ismael and the only person that treated her like she was normal, like she wasn't broken. She couldn't help but feel like she was holding him back from making more well-adjusted friends.

"You don't have to do this, you know," she'd said quietly after their appointed movie night. Well, it was technically a movie night but they'd opted to binge watch The Mandalorian.

"Do what?" Adam asked, grabbing his keys to drive her home. Well, Beth's house.

"Hang out with me," she mumbled. "I know I'm a downer sometimes… I know I'm-"

"Don't say broken," Adam interrupted quietly. "You're not."

"Then what am I?" She'd scoffed. 

"You're hurting," Adam said matter of factly. "What kind of friend would I be to ditch you when you're hurting?"

"That's what I mean," she sighed. "I don't want you to feel like you  _ have  _ to stick around."

"I don't feel like I  _ have  _ to do anything," he said emphatically. "I  _ like  _ spending time with you."

"Even though I'm sad and boring?"

"You're not  _ always _ sad and boring," he said teasingly and she couldn't resist the smile she cracked. "You make me laugh. You make me feel safe and like I can be me."

"Yeah?" She asked bashfully.

"Heck yeah," Adam smiled, taking her hand in his larger one. "Besides I like taking care of you."

And it showed. He always made sure she wasn't self-isolating on her bad days, he always had the most fun stuff planned with Ismael, he went with her to the grocery store just so she'd feel safe, and he even helped her find a therapist eventually. But he was never suffocating. He gave her space and time and he was just  _ great _ . 

If it weren't for Adam, Ismael, and Beth then she wasn't sure where she'd be. Things were looking up. Not much time had passed since Rio had gone away but things were looking up.

She missed him sometimes, Rio. She couldn't deny the fact that she still touched herself thinking of him. She was always hunched over the toilet having been sick afterwards but her body remembered him a little too fondly. It was something she was working through with her therapist and slowly but surely they exorcised the ghosts that Chr- Rio left in her life. 

She surprisingly still had a job at the same firm as Ismael. She worried that her extended and unexplained absence would come across as unreliable but she supposed it would be a lot off-colour to fire the kidnapping victim. She was glad to be back at work, to have something else take up her thoughts besides scars but she couldn't deny that the pitying looks shot her way would make her skin crawl. 

But still she rebuilt. Still, she persisted.

She took self defense classes, joined a gym and eventually stopped jumping at shadows. Eventually, she stopped thinking about Christopher.

She eventually moved out of Beth's and filled her free time with decorating her new digs, making it into a home and a fortress. It was at her housewarming party that she and Adam shared their first tentative kiss. It scared and thrilled her in equal measure but Adam assured her that they would take things as slowly as she wanted. Ismael and Beth approved so that was definitely a good sign.

It was when she re-entered her dark apartment after another movie night with Adam that she felt off-kilter. Her apartment was the one place she felt safe but something was off in the darkness. She tiptoed further into the room, sending a quick text to Adam that she was at home but she felt weird, there was someone in the house. Staring wide eyed into the dark, she jumped when her phone buzzed. 

_ Adam: wait for me outside? I'll come get you _

She thanked him and apologised about being jumpy and paranoid, before turning around to leave the apartment. Before her hand reached the doorknob, she heard a click and the press of cool steel to the base of her neck. She shivered.

"Did you miss me, baby girl?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think 😌


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Non-Con/ Rape
> 
> Sorry for the wait! Longish chapter to say sorry.

Christopher couldn't believe how quickly everything happened. He'd thought he'd ply the cops with excuses to get them to leave but they were too scrutinising, too suspicious.

Next thing he knows, one of them is shouting about the girl tied up in his basement.

Scuffle, gunshot, handcuffs.

How was he so easily bested? 

He knows why. It's her. He couldn't think of anything besides her and keeping her. The memory of her cunt tight on his cock still fresh in his mind. He was so sure that she was close to being his again that thinking of her being taken from him was enough to drive him to mad desperation.

Before they took her, she looked him dead in the eye, her gaze cold, and said, "I don't want you. I never did."

The way she looked down at him, her face contorted in disgust, it broke his heart. 

And suddenly it all started to make sense. When she suddenly opened her legs for him, it was all a ploy. When he found her standing over him, naked and ready, she'd probably just sent a text off his phone that lead them straight to him. 

She'd used him. 

But she hadn't just fucked him. She'd begged for him, she'd cum on his cock and squirted all over his hand more times than he could count. You couldn't fake that. 

Moreover, she started to seek him out, wanting his companionship. After all, she had no human contact besides him. 

Seeing her in court was almost nourishing and not once did he take his eyes off her. She had been trembling slightly and she avoided his gaze all the while telling the court that she didn't want him. That he'd forced himself on her. Forced was a strong word, he'd simply persuaded. If he stuck his fingers in her cunt and she got wet then whose fault was that?

She didn't mean it. She did want him. She always did.

And if she didn't he would make her. Or else he'd have to kill her.

Even though Mick had staged his little coup and usurped his operation, Christopher still had side gigs, money, and a few loyal men. Getting out of prison was...messy but altogether not that difficult.

He couldn't hold anything against Lauren, he really didn't give her much to work with and even if he did, her pale and sallow face during the trial let him know that she didn't have the constitution to defend a monster. He'd still hoped though.

He had bided his time in prison, the landscape not wholly unfamiliar to him. He let enough time pass to build connections and enough time for his girl to let her guard down and get comfortable. And then like a shadow in the night he slipped out. 

He'd of course watched her for some time. She was jumpier than he expected, glancing over her shoulder habitually. He knew it was paranoia as opposed to actually knowing he was nearby. When she moved out of Beth's house, he'd already bugged her apartment.

She didn't get up to much at first but eventually she started touching herself, his name leaving her lips as tears streamed down her face. She was always sick afterwards and he almost felt pity beyond the smug satisfaction. 

But then all of a sudden, she stopped and he couldn't indulge himself on the sight of her desperately fingering herself thinking about him.

He watched as the shadows fled her face, as she smiled more, as she stopped jumping at shadows, as she flourished without him. 

He watched when she shyly kissed the dark haired stranger from the supermarket.

She said she didn't know him. She said he was a stranger. And yet she kissed him.

Fine. He would give her one more chance. One more chance to leave peacefully with him.

If not, if she wouldn't be his…

He would burn her. He would burn the heart out of her until she grew cold in his arms.

She will be mine or she will burn.

***

She hated peaches. Always had. She found their flavour too saccharine, too cloying. She couldn't explain it. They tasted too thick, too dense. She vastly preferred the tart sweetness of a plum. Peaches were too much all at once. 

Rio was a lot like a peach in that respect. A lot all at once, even his sweetness suffocating.

"What kind of psychopath hates peaches?" Adam laughed incredulously one night.

"Well, after I saw Call Me By Your Name…" she retorted.

"Oh, gross," Adam groaned and she snorted with laughter. "Don't mention the boy to me."

"The boy?" She laughed, almost crying. The contempt in Adam's voice was the funniest thing she'd heard in weeks. "What do you have against Timothée Chalamet ?"

"The boy is like a peach to me,"Adam sneered, waving his large hand dismissively. "Too sweet, overhyped…"

"I don't know, I think he's kinda cute," she smirked, leaning across the couch.

"Oh, hush,"Adam huffed, fighting a grin.

"Maybe my safeword should he peaches now," she laughed before she sobered, realising what she said.

"Safeword ?" Adam asked tentatively.

"He, uh, he was...He was into BDSM and all that. I had a safeword. I couldn't actually use it without pissing him off but I had one,"she rushed out, shaking her head.

"What was it?" Adam asked quietly.

"Omakase," she whispered. 

"Like the Japanese food thing?"

"Yeah. It was bourbon for a while. Before,"she trailed off.

"Do you miss that? The kink stuff?" Adam asked seriously, twisting his torso slightly to face her. "Do you want that?"

"No,", she breathed, eyes watering. "I don't know if I can let myself feel that helpless again."

"Alright," Adam said softly, wrapping his large frame around her. She felt so safe, so warm in his strong arms. His size almost cocooned her and she knew he'd never let anything happen to her. 

"Hey, you can still have a safeword,"he said and she heard the word rumble in his chest. "If you feel unsafe or you don't like what I'm doing, you just yell 'peaches' and I'll come get you, okay. I'll come running. Or I'll back off if you need me to."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't need to thank me, sweetie," he said softly and he kissed the top of her head.

Despite his size and intimidating aura, Adam was one of the gentlest people she knew. People always say, 'Aw, he wouldn't hurt a fly.' In Adam's case that was 100% true. He was even a vegan. But beyond that, Adam was honest with the purest of intentions. 

So when he said he'd come running? 

She believed him.

***

"Sit down," Rio said, gesturing towards an armchair with his gun. He had marched her into the living room, his gun trained on her back, her arms up and shaking.

Her phone was pinging incessantly, a stubborn third guest trying to insert itself into their weird pantomime.

She sat down shakily, hand still clutching her noisy phone. Her jaw was clenched stubbornly and all she could find in herself to think was that she must not cry under any circumstances.

"Call your boyfriend," Rio sneered the last word. "And tell him you're alright and not to worry. Tell him to go home."

She unlocked her phone, a plan already unfolding in her racing mind. 

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"And don't try anything," Rio said lowly, his eyes wild but his face impassive. "Put it in speaker."

I am going to die.

No.

She dialled Adam's number and he answered on the first ring.

"Hey, are you okay?" Adam's deep voice rumbled.

"I'm fine, peaches," she breathed, sounding calmer than she felt. Adam paused and she knew he understood.

"You sure you're alright, sweet pea? Adam asked, his voice only trembling slightly.

"Stop fussing, peaches," she said, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible.

"If you insist, love," Adam said lightly. "Speaking of peaches, I was thinking of grabbing some on the way home. What do you think?"

"I think that's a great idea," she said, smiling shakily even though he couldn't see her. "You should hurry before the store closes though. I've been craving peach cobbler."

"I will,"Adam huffed lightly but to her trained ears, she could hear his nervousness, his anger at Rio. "I know you have a sweet tooth."

Rio impatiently waved his gun and she gulped against the dryness in her throat.

"Alright, hun, I gotta go. I wanna take a shower and hit the hay," she sighed. 

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," Adam said, a promise in his voice.

They hung up and Rio simply regarded her blankly. He stood up and paced in front of her slowly and she watched him. He was like a caged animal. Did that make her the prey?

He stopped to stand in front of her, looking down at her with anger and thinly veiled disgust. No, not disgust. Envy.

He backhanded her across the face, the gun whipping across her face, cutting into her cheek. She did not cry out, she did not weep, and she sure as hell didn't beg.

"Did you fuck him?" Rio hissed, leaning down to meet her eyes.

"I don't see how that's your business," she said flatly.

Rio turned around, his shoulders shaking and she wondered if he was crying until he started to chuckle.

"When are you gonna understand,", he laughed hysterically. "That you're mine."

"I don't belong to anyone," she retorted, feeling braver than she had any right to with a gun pointed at her.

"You belong to me,"Rio sneered, beating his chest with an almost hollow thud.

She glared at him stubbornly.

"No."

"I saw you touching your cute little clit, you know," he said casually, squatting in front of her. Her face warmed in anger and embarrassment. "Moaning my name and whatnot."

"Part of processing the trauma of being raped,", she spat and he slapped her again.

"How fucking dare you,"he hissed. "How dare you sit in front of all those people and call me a rapist."

"That's what you are, Rio," she spat, tasting blood. "You kidnapped me, you psycho. I can't consent. I couldn't consent."

"So you're just gonna act like you didn't squirt on my cock?" He sneered. 

"I. Couldn't. Consent,"she repeated through gritted teeth. 

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?" He chuckled cruelly.

"Fuck you,"she spat angrily.

He looked like he was about to hit her again before he caught himself, shaking his head like he was disappointed in her.

"I didn't come here to fight,", he rasped. "I came here because I know you still want me. I know you still want a life with me."

She stared at him incredulously.

"Why the hell would you think that?" She breathed. He was mad. Well and truly crazy.

"You can't fake how your body responded to me," Rio said pleadingly. "You were begging!"

"I used you," she sneered. "I was pretending so that I'd have a chance to get away from you."

"You're lying," he said quietly. "You're lying!"

"I don't want you, Christopher," she whispered. "I don't."

Rio looked down at her with that same unnerving impassive stare for a few beats before he lurched forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her bodily in the direction of the bedroom.

"No! No!" She screamed, struggling in his hold. "Please, just let me go. I won't call the cops."

"You're not going anywhere without me," he said almost to himself. "We're in love."

He threw her onto the bed, moving to kneel between her legs and pinning her arms down as she thrashed in his grasp.

"You just need a reminder," he husked, leaning forward to kiss her neck and she shuddered in revulsion, bucking against him with all her strength but he just groaned. She'd unknowingly bucked against his erection. 

She felt nauseated. She was struggling and pleading and he was aroused. She struggled and struggled but he seemed to just savour the movement of she body against his. What was she supposed to do now? He was too strong, too convinced that this was the way. She could feel the bruises forming on her wrists where he held her down and her heart sank.

Something glinted in the corner of her eye. Gold and black and shining like God in the dim lamplight. 

Rio continued his ministrations, licking up her neck to the shell of her neck and grinding his erection into her clothed mound. She felt herself growing wet and her body went limp. Perhaps she imagined it but faintly crooning in the distance were police sirens.

Feeling her grow limp under him, Rio let her hands go and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in as his hands slipped under her dress to pull her panties to the side. His fingers ran up and down her sex and she fought to remain limp. 

"Wet, wet, wet," he mumbled smugly into her neck. She knew that she wasn't but delusion clouded his perception.

He unzipped his jeans and she felt the head of cock nudge at her steadily swelling clit.

"I thought I was gonna have to kill you," he mumbled as he ran his cock over her clit and she shivered involuntarily. "Now I won't have to. I won't have to."

His cock breached her and as he entered her it was as though he'd injected her with hot, mercurial fury. Poisonous and rushing through her veins. As he bore into her body, groaning in overwhelming ecstasy, she slowly reached for the gun he had been so foolish to discard.

This was his problem. Unhinged. Uncaring. A creature of pure base urges. Such was his folly that he was so focused on the sensation of her pussy to feel the gun barrel that pressed into his side ever so slowly. 

He stuffed a hand between them to rub her clit, ever the gentleman and considerate lover. He thrust faster and faster and faster into her, his desperation evident. The tension between her own legs grew in spite of the pain, her channel slickening to ease the way, the tension directly proportional to the rage in her heart.

They just about came together and when he did, she squeezed the trigger, ever so slightly.

The bang of the gun was interspersed with the bang of her front door being knocked down. The gun fell from her hands.

Rio reared back in shock, still inside her, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He coughed and blood splattered across her face.

"You shot me," he wheezed.

"I hate you, Christopher," she breathed. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

His face contorted in rage and he grabbed the gun that she'd dropped. He tried to pound into her, placing the gun against her head. She closed her eyes, sure that it was too late and that this was the end. She took a deep breath and then…

Bang!

Then silence.

She opened her eyes and suddenly her vision was obstructed by Christopher collapsing onto her, still between her legs. His breath was shallow and watery and soon he gave a full body tremble and then was still, his body a leaden weight. It was as though his body was shaking his tainted soul free. His face was tucked into her neck, but no breath tickled her. 

He was dead. 

Christopher, Rio, whoever. He was dead.

She wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Sorry for the late update but life, health, you know how it is.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings and beginnings

She was giving great, heaving sobs as she felt his heavy form settle atop her, still inside her. 

She felt them, the officers heave his body off her and she resisted the urge to gag and void her stomach. There was chatter and the crackle of radios, lights dazzling in the dark room threatening to blind her.

A female SWAT officer came into view through all the lights and she felt herself relax somewhat through her sobs.

"Hey, I'm gonna help you up, okay?" The woman said gently. "Do you think you can stand?"

She nodded jerkily, eyeing everyone in the room warily. She closed her legs and scooted towards the edge of the bed gingerly. She felt bruised... _ there.  _ Bruised and violated and  _ slimy _ . She held back a gag. 

The female officer put a strong steadying arm around her waist and she slung her arm over the officer's shoulder. Together they limped out of the apartment and into the elevator. Once it was just the two of them in the elevator and the doors closed, it was like turning on the volume in her own head.

It was like static, frantic and horrible static. It was like the self that she had hidden away as he bore into her had screamed and screamed and she couldn't hear it until it was all over, then she was left with echoes. Distorted fragments carried on the winds of her fragile mind. 

She could feel cum running down her thighs.

She burst into tears.

The officer didn't hesitate, tightening her hold and rubbing her back in gentle circles. 

"You're okay, sweetie," the officer said gently. "You're okay and that bastard is dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

And then she realised another thing she felt. Another emotion through the fear, and relief and confusion.

_ Grief _ **_._ **

Christopher was dead. He couldn't hurt her any more. She should've been jumping for joy but her heart ached at the fact that all that would be left of him was a husk. A husk that would be buried in a pauper's grave before disintegrating back into the earth. Vibrant danger to inconsequential dust. He was gone **.**

For good.

Her grief was pushed aside by relief when she saw Adam outside, red and blue flashing lights a halo behind him. His arms were crossed and he gnawed at his thumbnail as he was wont to do when he was stressed. He caught sight of her and immediately strode over to her, dark hair billowing behind him as he closed the distance between them. 

He'd saved her. 

He wrapped her in a strong, nearly bone-crushing hug and kissed the top of her hair, mumbling incoherently. She lay her head against his chest and she finally understood what he was trying to say.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be," she whispered. 

"I let him hurt you," Adam said helplessly, cradling her face gently. 

"No," she said almost angrily. "If it wasn't for you, he would've killed me. He would've... _ used me and killed me.  _ You saved me, Adam."

Adam held her hand as he drove her to the hospitality, her having refused the ambulance, stating that she wasn't made or money. He held her hand through yet another rape kit. He held her hand when she threw up again. He held her hand when they had to give her stitches. 

Adam was there through it all. 

***

Beth and the girls stormed in with a panicked Ismael and she smiled weakly at them. They were practically oozing worry. While she didn't like distressing them, it warmed her heart.

They fussed and talked and Adam stroked her hand as he quietly listened to the girls take stock of their friend. 

"Is he dead?" Ismael deadpanned once everyone had quietened down.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding shakily.

"Good," Ismael said decisively, his jaw clenching with anger. 

"I wish I could've done it myself," Adam grumbled, his deep voice tinged with a dark undercurrent. 

"Adam," she said gently, squeezing his hand.

"I do," Adam said, his voice thickening as his eyes filled with tears. "After seeing what he did to you… I'd have strangled the bastard."

"He's gone and that's all that matters," she said firmly.

She tried to hold onto that philosophy. When she moved back in with Beth because she couldn't stand to sleep in her apartment, she tried to remember it. When she went back to work and couldn't talk to any man besides Ismael, she recited it to herself like a mantra. When she had a panic attack at Whole Foods, she tried to remember that at least he was gone.

It still hurt. To think of Christopher wasting away in the ground somewhere. She even felt guilty sometimes, like if she'd been different, been better then maybe she'd have fixed him.

Her therapist quickly dispelled these notions, reminding her that any attempts at fixing Christopher would have been used to manipulate her into staying with him. 

She worked through the grief and trauma, her therapist letting her know that it was normal for the umpteenth time. She pieced herself back together slowly but surely.

Beth and the girls were always dragging her out for ladies' night and nights where they'd just stay in and watch the Bachelor. The first time, there was a guy that looked a little too much like Rio and she'd burst into tears but they'd held her till she felt less...tender.

Ismael. Ismael was just wonderful. Their outings were light-hearted and fun, discovering new places nearly every weekend and eating like they were teenagers. He became fiercely overprotective, glaring at any guy that so much as breathed in her direction. Ismael would walk her to her car after work or sit with her in her car if she was having a panic attack. 

Things with Adam were getting serious. She had worried that he wouldn't want her anymore since she was... damaged goods but he'd chided her affectionately and told her that he wasn't going anywhere. He was patient and loving and so supportive. She didn't know how she managed to get so lucky with him. He knew when she was quiet because she needed to talk about something and he knew when she was quite because she needed space. He knew when she needed to cuddle and he knew when she was having her non-tactile days. 

"I love you," she said when they were having their one year anniversary movie night. Duel of the Fates played dramatically in the background when he turned to face her wide eyed. His face split in a wide, goofy grin and she kissed him soundly.

"I've loved you since I called you General Kenobi and you laughed at me," Adam said against her lips. 

"You goof," she laughed.

They built something together. Something tentative and something delicate but beautiful nonetheless. She still had bad days, days when it was all just too much and so did Adam but they got through it together. 

They got married in a courthouse with Beth and Ismael as witnesses. Their rings were meteorite-cobalt alloy because they were nerds and no one could tell them that they couldn't. 

Life went on in its fullness and unpredictability. Mundane in places and vibrant technicolour in other places. She just breathed it all in, grateful for it all because she had Adam, she had a family.

And sometimes if she focused, she could feel a pair of disembodied eyes watching from the ether. 

A ghost is a memory, a regret, a scar. A remnant of a moment passed, walking through all the places time wears thin. 

It was time to focus on the now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! Thank you so much for sticking around especially towards the end. I'm sorry this is coming so late but my health hasn't been great lately. Your patience is greatly appreciated!   
> I don't know if I'll write anything more for this fandom as I'm fresh out of ideas but you can send me prompts over on Tumblr @ crappedoutlungs and I'll see what I can do!  
> Thank you so much again for your love and support. I wouldn't have gotten this far without your comments and kudos. You are all perfectly splendid 😊

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts! Let me know if I should scrap this, continue, etc lol  
> I actually started working on this while I was doing the Danger Coming Over sequel but I wasn't sure if I should post it. 
> 
> This is, of course, gonna be dark so please heed the tags and the trigger warnings that I will be putting at the beginning of each chapter. Take care <3
> 
> Also, just in case:
> 
> 1\. hiiii  
> 2\. I don't own good girls, I don't hate any of the characters or actors. These are just ideas being fleshed out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and pls be nice in the comments :D


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